Nox Aeterna
by md92
Summary: Rose Granger-Weasley is no hero. She's a little bit perpetually hungover, to be honest, and what she'd really prefer is not to be the child of celebrated public figures at all. When the Wizarding World is turned upside down, however, Rose finds herself its reluctant savior. If only she had better backup than her moody cousin and his smart-mouthed best mate, Scorpius Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hello! Welcome to Nox Aeterna. I'm not planning on having Author's Notes at the beginning of every chapter, as I feel it breaks up the flow of the story a bit, so I figured I'd do one here at the beginning. For those of you who've read LaF, thanks for coming back! I want to warn you that this story will be fairly different - less fluff, more plot-driven storyline - but hopefully you'll all enjoy it. I've got the story mapped out and the first six or so chapters completed, and let me tell ya, it's a bit of a doozy. Hopefully you'll join me in this journey to complete it.**_

 _ **This is written entirely in cannon following The Cursed Child. While there were some parts of the script I may not have been entirely thrilled with, I have to respect JKR's artistic license, and I really wanted to write a story in cannon that remained a Scorose story at its core. THAT BEING SAID, I feel like Jo gave us a lot to play with as far as the three main characters go. This means that, yes, they all have massive character flaws and make mistakes and are not perfect, etc, etc, and so on and so forth. This is the point of my story. These are children of war heroes who are struggling to find their own identities among their parents' legacies.**_

 _ **If you're still with me, thank you. I've had a lot of fun writing this story, and I hope you enjoy it. This first chapter is all in Rose's POV, but from here on out, it'll jump a bit between characters. I always love to hear what you think, be it the good, the bad, or the ugly, so please take the time to leave me a comment :)**_

 _ **-md xx**_

 _ **Rated M for language, violence (upcoming) and mild sexual situations (also upcoming.)**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the other characters, plots, places, etc. that you may recognise. I am making no money from this, and get paid only in the satisfaction of the occasional nice reader review.**_

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

 **Rose**

* * *

Rose Granger-Weasley strode down Diagon Alley as defiantly as she could, given that it wasn't yet gone ten, she was still wearing her dress from the night before, and was blatantly nursing a killer hangover. A young mother gave her a scathingly dirty look before ushering her child past, and Rose rolled her eyes skyward, internally praying that there were no Daily Prophet reporters about. It was one thing to make a public walk of shame, but quite another to have it broadcasted to the entire wizarding world. Including Rose's own busybody family.

The sunlight blinded her, and she squinted against its harsh rays as she ducked inside a café just off the high street, her too-tall heels teetering precariously on the cobbled steps. When her eyes adjusted to the light inside the shop, she ordered an extra-large pumpkin juice with a hangover potion, and plopped herself into a seat by the window next to a pretty blonde girl, whose nose wrinkled with distaste when she sat.

"You look like shit," Charlotte Kemp said, eyeing her friend.

"Cheers" Rose replied scratchily, downing her potion in one go.

Immediately her head felt lighter, and she closed her eyes, sinking back against the rather hard-backed chair she sat in.

Charlotte shook her head, smiling despite herself, and picked an invisible piece of fuzz off of her pale pink jumper. "Where did you end up going last night?" she asked lightly.

"Started off at the Leaky - ended up in Rhys Selwyn's bed," Rose enjoyed a moment of watching her friend squirm. "The usual."

Charlotte's mouth drew into a hard line, as if biting back a comment or two. All she said though, was "Rhys Selwyn is a prick."

Rose nodded solemnly, fighting a twitch of a smile. "He is."

Charlotte rolled her eyes and sighed, but dropped the matter, for which Rose was grateful. Her friend sipped her tea for a moment, while Rose picked at a bit of her nail varnish. She flicked one large bit of black polish on the floor, and Charlotte nervously smoothed her blonde hair, as if the very sight of Rose's unsightly chipped nails offended her. Rose bit her lip, stopping herself from mentioning the entire year of school Charlotte had worn horrible blue sparkly eyeliner.

"So, you asked me to come?" Rose prompted, wondering idly why she wasn't back in her own bed at the moment.

"Yes," Charlotte's face brightened, and for a moment, she looked again like the innocent, sweet girl that Rose had known through school. There was a gentle tug on her heartstrings as she recalled the feeling of sharing a dormitory with her best friends, carefree and innocent.

"Demetrius proposed," said Charlotte excitedly, and the warmth in Rose's chest went out like a snuffed candle. A buzzing began in her ears, and her skimpy dress felt suddenly too tight, constricting. There was a beat before she realised her friend was waiting for her to reply.

"That's... that's great news," she said, hoping to Merlin her voice wouldn't crack. "I'm so happy for you, both of you..."

Charlotte frowned, a little wrinkle appearing in her brow. "Rosie," she said, clasping her friend's hand, "I'm sorry - I don't mean to overshadow your problems with my happiness-"

"Don't be silly," Rose countered quickly, not ready to go down that road again. "This is about you and your big news, don't worry about me."

Charlotte had never been good at reading signals. "Yes, but it's only been six months since Toby," she said, in a voice she clearly believed was soothing, but had Rose gritting her teeth.

"Bugger Toby."

"We can," Charlotte said, waving a hand airily, "at least agree on _that_."

"I am really happy for you, Char," Rose said, genuinely as she could muster. Her chest still felt tight, but the smile on her friend's face at least partially thawed a chunk of her frozen heart.

"You'll be my maid of honour, won't you?" Charlotte asked earnestly, and Rose gave a nervous laugh.

"Red hair clashes with nearly every dress robe colour..." she began to protest.

"I really want you to," Charlotte insisted. "I've already asked Marjorie and Em to be bridesmaids as well, now I just need you to say yes."

There was nothing else she could do. "Yes, of course," Rose said.

She swallowed down the pumpkin juice that threatened to resurface and forced herself to smile for the sake of her oldest friend.

"Great," said Charlotte, sitting up straighter and grabbing a hold of Rose's hand, squeezing it excitedly.

Rose forced a smile back, feeling like the worst friend in the world.

* * *

"You look like shit," Rose heard for the second time that day.

Rose dropped her bag on the floor, not bothering to turn around to greet the intruder in her home. Her father would chastise her for being so cavalier, but this was a voice she'd known all her life. Besides, the wards around her flat would surely stop any unwanted intruders.

"Fuck off out of my flat, you git." She told Albus, stopping by the hallway mirror to assess just how bad she actually did look. Rose grimaced. He wasn't wrong. She unceremoniously dropped her bag below the mirror and kicked off her heels, wiggling her toes as she relished the feeling of freedom before she turned to her cousin.

Albus, for his part, gave a deep chuckle, using the tip of his wand to light the fag that dangled from his lips as he flipped through Rose's copy of the Prophet, looking for all the world at home at her kitchen table.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Rose asked, stealing the cigarette from his lips and giving it a long, deep drag, her eyes closing in bliss.

"Fancied a change of scene," he said, not meeting her eyes.

Rose frowned, a wrinkle marring her freckled forehead, and pursed her lips at her cousin. Albus sighed deeply, rolling his green eyes dramatically. "All right," he shot a pained look at Rose. "Helena is at my flat."

"Helena...?"

"You know, Ravenclaw House? She was the year below us? Big..." he made a rude gesture in front of his chest, and Rose gave a short bark of laughter.

"Yes, I remember." she said quickly, trying to remember when Albus had grown out of his incredibly awkward phase and turned into such a lothario.

"Yeah, well" Al blew a strand of his too-long hair out of his eyes. "She's a bit clingy."

Rose smirked and sat opposite her cousin. He had stopped pretending to read the newspaper, his arms folded across his narrow chest as he appraised her across the table in Rose's cramped kitchen. Albus had always been thin, wiry like his father, but he'd grown into his looks somewhat as he'd aged into his twenties. Still, she'd always see him as the peaky little git she'd grown up with.

They weren't close. They weren't even friends, most of the time. But Rose knew that nobody got her, really knew her the way he did.

"So what, you're just going to hide out here until she goes?" she asked, pinching Albus on his arm so that he yelped and hit her in retaliation. Rose waved her wand lazily in his direction, and he blocked her hex wordlessly.

"I figure she'll get bored soon and leave. Either that, or Scorp'll take pity on her and tell her I'm through with her."

Rose quirked one eyebrow at him. "You always let your boyfriend handle your morning afters?"

"Har har," Al smirked at her in that way that reminded Rose that he'd been a Slytherin. "I'll have you know, I'm _very_ straight."

"Gross."

"Anyway, hark who's talking," he said, waggling his eyebrows as he sat back in his chair and took in her dishevelled appearance. "You look as though you've only just come in from an - ah, interesting night out."

Rose swatted his arm a little too hard to be playful.

"What I do, and who I do it with is none of your concern," she said coolly.

Al looked as if he were going to say something, and then bit his tongue. His smirk turned into a small frown, and he sighed deeply before opening his mouth. Rose tensed, feeling the conversation turn to a place she'd rather it not.

She was spared any awkward heart-to-heart, however, by a sudden gust of flames from her kitchen fireplace. The disheveled blond head of Scorpius Malfoy poked out of the fire.

"Hi, is Al here?" He asked, a little breathlessly. Rose jabbed a thumb over her shoulder and Scorpius' neck twisted around in the flames, so that Albus came into his direct line of vision.

Albus dropped the paper on Rose's lap as he came round the table to kneel before the fireplace.

"Helena gone then?"

Scorpius blew an agitated gust of breath out of his nostrils and glared at Albus through the flames. "I wish you wouldn't leave me to dispose of your sexual conquests," he huffed, rolling his eyes.

"Right mate, sorry, that's the last time, I promise."

Scorpius looked as if he were fighting to stay mad, but gave up and cracked a smile. "Coast is clear. Can you pick up some milk before you get home?"

Rose muttered something about "Al" and "housewife" under her breath just so Albus could hear, and he shot her a quick glare.

"Be right here, mate," he said, thwacking Rose over the head as he left to get to the apparition point.

There was a moment before Rose realized that she was left alone in her kitchen with Scorpius' head still in her fire.

"All right, Rosie?" He said, smirking at her.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," she said, standing up to leave the room. "I'm not in the mood."

"Fair enough," he said, and with laugh, he was gone.

Rose retreated to her bedroom, closed her curtains, and proceeded to sleep away the remainder of the day.

* * *

She was awoken by the sound of the floo once more, the crackling from the kitchen echoing around her empty flat. Before Rose could be bothered to stir from her bed, she heard footsteps reverberating through the flat, coming to pause outside of her door.

She could see in the light an unmistakably male form shadowed in the light. It coughed nervously.

"Rose?" The voice called into the room. She came to the door, wiping the sleep from her eyes and blinking at the light from the living room as her eyes adjusted.

"Scorpius?" She frowned as she recognized his unruly mop of blond hair through the darkness, "What are you doing here?" She lit the room with a quick _lumos_ so that she could see him properly.

His eyes glanced downwards, and Rose was suddenly very aware that she was dressed in only an old ratty Cannons shirt she'd nicked off her brother, and a little pair of cheeky underwear. She crossed one long leg over the other, uncharacteristically self conscious, and his eyes followed her movement before they darted back to her face. He was flushed. She raised one eyebrow.

"I - um," he swallowed, "Albus sent me to fetch you. James' birthday party tonight? He thought you'd forgotten."

"Shit," said Rose, who _had_ forgotten.

"I can wait, if you want me to..."

"I'll be just ten minutes" she said, waving her hand at the couch as she gestured for him to sit.

He did so, moving the pile of laundry so that he could sit, and quite nosily glancing around her flat. Rose realized that this was the first time he'd been here, and halfheartedly wished she'd bothered to clean a bit. There was no reason for him to have ever visited her before - if she was barely friendly with Albus, then she was even less so with his roommate and perpetual shadow. He was a bit of an odd duck, Scorpius Malfoy, though he'd always been more than polite to her. He seemed to be taking the rather bizarre situation in stride, however, fiddling with the items on her shelves and pulling out books at random. She watched him for a brief moment through the crack in the doorway, wondering if it'd be rude to ask him to stop touching her personal shit.

"I didn't know you were interested in becoming a healer," he said, peering at a heavy tome Rose instantly recognized.

"I'm... not." She called from her room, pausing as she pulled on a pair of stockings.

He tutted. "You've certainly got a lot of books about medicinal practices for someone who's not interested."

Rose had nothing to say to that, so she changed the subject.

"So why didn't Albus come and fetch me himself?" She asked him as she held up two nearly identical slinky black dresses to her body and looked into her mirror.

"He got called into work - some Mandrake emergency, I guess."

Rose could hear through the open door that he was still rustling around in her things, and huffed out one angry breath. Without answering him, she pulled on the skimpier of the two dresses and stepped out from the bedroom.

He had his back to her, reading an old copy of Witch Weekly that he'd clearly found on her coffee table.

"The writers of this magazine are barmy!" He said, shaking his white-blond head. "Do they really recommend putting heating spells on your socks before having se-"

He'd turned and seen Rose standing in the doorway, her arms crossed as she appraised him.

He smirked.

"I think you're missing a bit of your skirt." He said, staring pointedly.

"Fuck off." She said, glancing in the mirror and waving her wand at her own curly, rather untamable hair. It smoothed itself, just a little, before springing back to its natural state. Rose grimaced.

"You're kind of mean," he said, cocking his head to one side as he looked at her. He was still holding the magazine, and Rose could see the animated photographs doing rather embarrassing things from where she stood. She flicked her wand at it, and it went flying from his hands to land back on the coffee table. His smirk just widened.

"Sorry for going through your things," he said, not seeming sorry at all.

"S'alright," she said, wanting to get him out of her flat before he started rummaging through her knickers drawers, or something equally invasive. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," he said, grabbing his wand from his pocket. "Shall we take the floo?"

Rose, who secretly hated the feeling of apparition, agreed wordlessly, and followed him over to the fireplace. After he'd gone, she grabbed a handful of powder from the pot on her mantle, and stepped into the flames, shouting "The Three Broomsticks!"

* * *

The pub was noisy and incredibly crowded by the time Rose and Scorpius arrived. She quickly detached herself from him, aware that their peers were overly nosy and would read too much into their joint arrival.

The place had been done up since Rose'd graduated from Hogwarts. It still retained its old English charm, with the exposed beams and panelled glass windows she remembered, but the inside felt newer, and attracted a trendier crowd. The bar was built of dark wood, lined with several liquors that Rose had never even heard of. Above it, the legendary three broomsticks were tacked upon the wall.

She quickly found Charlotte doing shots of firewhiskey with their friends and old dorm-mates, Marjorie Edwards and Emily Gallagher. When the girls saw her, Emily shoved a shot glass full of the dark, amber liquid into Rose's hands.

"A toast to the bride!" she said, her round face already red from the alcohol she'd consumed.

Rose wrinkled her nose at the taste as it burned its way down her throat.

Marjorie grabbed Rose's hand when she was done coughing. "Char's was just telling us all about the wedding venue," she said, her dark eyes sparkling with excitement.

Rose plastered on her happy face and nodded along.

"We're looking at renting out a castle in Scotland," Charlotte said, her face shiny and pink from the elation and firewhiskey. "The Macmillans apparently have a long-standing tradition of getting married at the family estate on Loch Lomond, but apparently they're having a bit of a keplie infestation, so we're looking at alternative venues."

"It sounds absolutely magical," Em squealed, looking as if she may cry from excitement, or perhaps piss herself. "And you're so lucky to have Demetrius, he really is just such a Prince Charmi-"

"I have to go and find James," Rose said abruptly, and left the table without a look back at what she was sure would be three bewildered faces.

Making her way to the bar was a Herculean task in itself. The place was packed with former classmates and various family members, many of which Rose had absolutely zero desire to talk to. She was just about to make good on her previous statement and actually find James to wish him a happy birthday, when there was a light tap on her shoulder.

Rose turned to find Demetrius Macmillian, Charlotte's fiance and apparent Prince Charming, gazing down at her with a slightly desperate look.

"Can we talk?" he asked, and before Rose could answer, he was dragging her by the arm to a secluded hallway just off the toilets.

Rose snatched her arm back, rubbing the spot where he'd gripped it.

There was a moment where he made a few exasperated huffing sounds while Rose stared bewilderingly at him, before he seemed to be able to speak. His golden hair was coiffed in a perfectly mussed-up way that Rose knew he must've spent ages on to make it look natural. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Demetrius'd always been a real pillock.

"I.. I just wanted to come and say - because Charlotte told me she talked to you this morning-"

"She did. Congratulations." Rose said with little emotion.

"Right, thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "But that's what I wanted to talk about - to make sure you weren't going to..." he trailed off, gesturing weakly at her.

"I'm not going to tell my best friend that I slept with her fiancé, if that's what you're asking," Rose said, her voice hard.

He stared at her for a long moment, then broke into a relieved smile.

"Great," he breathed, apparently satisfied. "That's - that's fantastic news, cheers Rose. You're such a cool bird. I'll catch you later, Weasley." and with a friendly clap on her shoulder, he left her in the dark hall.

Rose leaned up against the wall, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. The chatter from the pub rang in her ears as she steadied herself to rejoin the throng.

"So-" came a voice quite nearby, and Rose jumped, her eyes flying open to see Scorpius Malfoy drying his hands with his wand, clearly having just left the loo. "That was... an enlightening conversation." His face was a blank canvas, but Rose saw a slight twitch to one of his eyes. Was he offended? It wasn't his business.

Rose stared at him, her face hard. "You don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy." she said, trying to remain calm.

"Really?" he countered, raising an eyebrow, "Because it all seemed quite clear to me."

There was a beat where they stared each other down.

"You can't tell Charlotte." her hard veneer slipped, and she found that she was practically begging him. She made to grab a hold of his forearm, and he pulled it away from her grasp.

"I won't," he said, his voice clear and even, "but you should."

And for the second time in as many minutes, Rose was left alone in the corridor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All credit goes to JKR, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, etc. so on and so forth...**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 **Scorpius**

* * *

Albus had just arrived when Scorpius clapped him on the back. "Let's go, I'm tired of this party already," he whispered to his friend.

"What?" Albus' green eyes widened. "I've only just got here!"

Scorpius bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder at Rose, who had returned to her mates in the corner, and was now sipping a butterbeer while Emily Gallagher waved her hands wildly, telling some dramatic story. Albus' eyes followed his friends, and he groaned.

"Merlin, Scorp," he rolled his eyes. "We are not leaving because you're too much of a pansy to be around Rose. Why don't you just ask her out, already? It's been 'bout ten years you've fancied her."

"I don't - that is, I don't want to-" Scorpius spluttered, and Albus sent a knowing look at his friend before turning to catch the attention of the rather pretty girl behind the bar, leaving the blond to brood.

So perhaps he'd always had a bit of a _thing_ for Rose Granger-Weasley, he admitted to himself. From the first time he'd met her, she'd seemed larger-than-life. Even as an eleven-year old, she'd been untouchable, and had charmed everyone she met. Over a decade later, and she was just the same, though slightly jaded by the years. Still, she was a natural-born leader, and people followed her blindly. She was an enigma.

To top it off, she was the cousin of his best friend, so of course he'd had various interactions with her. They always seemed to go a bit awry, mostly due to his nerves and unfortunate tendency to say whatever sprung to mind without thinking it through properly. He'd gotten better the more contact he'd had with her, though, especially after his fourth year when Albus' dad had come around a bit and let Al have him over for holidays.

But that whispered conversation he'd overheard between Rose and that git Macmillian in the hall... Scorpius couldn't get it out of his head. The way Macmillian had eyed her up and down in that stupid tiny dress even as he'd voiced his regret over being with her had made his blood boil.

And Rose! What business did she have sleeping with the man her supposed best mate was about to marry? Scorpius knew through Albus that she'd had issues since her rather public breakup with Toby Kirke six months ago, but Merlin, this was on another scale. Albus had always said at school that Scorpius had held Rose on a pedestal, hadn't been able to see her flaws through all the blind adoration. Perhaps he'd been right.

It was with this thought that Scorpius drank deeply from the steaming mug of whatever alcoholic drink Albus had just put in front of him. He coughed at its taste, feeling rather foolish.

A strong hand hit him on the back, and Scorpius had to grip the bar to prevent himself from keeling forwards.

"All right, mate?" a familiar voice came from behind. He turned to see Albus giving his older brother a one-armed hug, a genuine smile gracing his friend's face.

"Happy Birthday, Jamie," Al said, smirking, "you old bastard."

"Cheers, Albie," James smirked, ruffling his younger brother's hair affectionately while Albus tried to wave him off.

"Happy birthday, mate," Scorpius said, shaking the elder Potter's hand. James Potter had always unnerved him slightly. Scorpius always had found him to be something of a loose cannon.

"Have you seen Edwards?" James asked, nodding over to where Rose sat with her friends. "Didn't look like that at school, did she?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"I'm fairly sure she's dating Yann Fredericks," Albus said, sipping his drink. "Bad luck, mate."

"We'll just see about that," James said, already disappearing into the crowd. "Be good, lads!" he turned and made a beeline for Marjorie. Scorpius and Albus watched as he kissed her hand, causing her to giggle and blush.

"Incredible," Albus breathed, a hint of laughter in his voice, "I'll never understand how he does it."

"You've not been doing so bad yourself, to be fair," Scorpius said, taking another sip of his drink cautiously, "Helena seemed rather upset that you weren't around this morning."

Albus sighed, putting his glass down on the bar, and turning to his friend. "I've said I'm sorry, Scorp, it won't happen again."

"Until next week."

"Until next week," Albus agreed, his eyebrow raising, and half a smirk gracing his features.

"I don't know why you won't just admit you kind of like her." Scorpius said, shaking his head. Albus shot him a pointed look, and changed the topic quickly.

"So... what is it about my cousin that has you running for the hills tonight?" he asked, turning to look at Rose, who was letting off what had to be the most fake-sounding laugh he'd ever heard.

"What's up with her lately?" Scorpius asked, avoiding the question.

Albus sighed, running one hand through his messy hair. "Dunno, mate." he said, "she's been really messed up since she broke up with Toby in May. I overheard my Aunt Hermione talking to mum about it the other day - they're really worried about her." Al continued, looking serious suddenly. "Apparently she hasn't been home or to the Burrow in a month, and showing up hungover for work. If her mum were any less than the Minister for Magic, she'd have been sacked by now, for sure."

Scorpius took a sip of his drink, glancing at the redhead in the corner. "Wonder what happened between Rose and Kirke to make her go so barmy," he mused.

Albus shook his head and sighed, "You and me both, mate. You and me both."

* * *

Scorpius was quickly remembering why he hated parties. And crowds. Though he'd learned to socialise a bit better in his later years at Hogwarts, he'd always been a bit of a loner at heart. It was why he and Albus got on so well.

Albus, it seemed, had grown out of his awkwardness somewhat. Their fourth year, the duo had become something of troublemaking team, and once Al had gotten over his crippling daddy issues, as Scorpius so fondly dubbed them, he'd used his newfound notoriety somewhat to his advantage. Scorpius could remember with acute embarrassment when in their sixth year Albus had shown up on September first with an old beat up leather motorcycle jacket that had once belonged to his father's godfather. Al liked to say it made him look "brooding". Scorpius liked to say it made him look like a "wanker".

Still, it was true that Albus had become surprisingly popular with the ladies over the years. Once, in seventh year, he'd even snogged Polly Chapman, though it was hard to say exactly _how much_ alcohol she'd consumed on that specific evening.

Still, the birds loved him.

There was no _clear_ reason why, Scorpius mused as he watched his best friend attempt to flirt, awkwardly, with a very pretty brunette towards the end of the evening. He sipped his firewhiskey as he watched Albus crack horrible joke after horrible joke about his career as a Herbologist, while the girl giggled at his every word.

"It's like watching a trainwreck, isn't it? You can't look away."

Scorpius knew without turning to look who had joined him at the bar. Her presence was felt, rather than seen, as she brushed up against him to take a seat at the stool directly next to him. He shivered slightly despite himself.

Scorpius had planned on ignoring her, childishly. That, or perhaps confronting her about their earlier conversation. He relished in the idea of making her squirm a bit. His mouth, however, replied almost instantly, partially because he couldn't help himself, and mostly because he was perhaps a little bit drunk.

"He's been talking about the medicinal uses of Bubotuber pus for fifteen minutes now," he said, his eyes trained on Albus and his conquest.

Rose giggled, pressing her mouth to her hand as she watched Albus wave his hands in a gesture as the brunette watched on, drunkenly fascinated.

"You think she's only after his name?" Scorpius said, meaning it as a joke.

There was a beat before Rose replied, and he turned to see a serious, sad expression on her face.

"Probably." was all she said.

Scorpius frowned, and was about to speak when another voice interrupted them.

"Right, you lot" A woman in her late thirties wearing heavy-looking magenta robes had s _onoroused_ her voice so that it rang above the din of the crowd. "That was last call. Now get your arses out before I get 'em out for ya." She clapped her hands, and the seats in the pub all expelled their occupants.

Scorpius found himself unceremoniously forced to his feet, and quickly caught Rose, who teetered on her too-high heels beside him.

"You all right?" he asked, because while he may have been put out with her, he was a gentleman first and foremost.

"Yeah," she said, breathlessly looking up at him and nearly toppling over again.

He held her at arm's length and attempted to flag down Albus.

"Can you get her home, mate?" he asked his friend, "I think she's had a few too many and I can't see any of her friends."

Albus' eyes flickered back to the brunette he'd been talking to at the bar, but quickly sighed as he looked at his cousin. "Yeah, all right," he said, hoisting Rose into his arms with a grunt. "Let's get you to bed, Rosie-Posie."

"Stop it, Albie-Walbie" she giggled, snuggling into her cousin's neck as Scorpius ushered them outside.

"Hey, none of this Albie business, you horrible slag," he said, though Scorpius noted his tone was much softer than his words.

He turned to Albus. "The queue for the floo is massive, and neither of us are sober enough to apparate."

Albus sighed, looking at his cousin, who'd nearly fallen asleep in his arms. "The Knight Bus?" he suggested weakly.

Scorpius shrugged, and stuck out his wand. With a _bang,_ the bright purple bus rocketed around the corner to end up in front of them. They clambered on, quickly, and Scorpius paid the driver.

As the bus sped left the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade and sped across the country towards London, Scorpius could hear Rose's breathing even out from where her head was propped up on Albus' shoulder. She sighed, snuggling into his jacket, as he slung an arm around her.

"I miss you, Albie," she said, her eyes closed. Albus glanced at Scorpius above her head, and the two men shared a look.

"It's okay, Rose," he said, finally. "I've got you."

* * *

It was the wee hours of the morning by the time the Knight Bus delivered them to the boys' flat in West London, and the sun was beginning to peek along the row of terraced houses. Scorpius unlocked the door as Al gently nudged Rose awake so that she could climb the steps to their top floor flat. As soon as they were inside, Al muttered a sleepy goodnight, heading towards his bedroom.

Scorpius busied himself in the kitchen, fixing himself a large glass of water, pretending not to notice the other occupant of the room. Rose, for her part, made a beeline for the loo and did not emerge until he'd drained his full glass.

When she reappeared, he wordlessly poured a second one for Rose, handing her the water without so much as a glance in her direction. She accepted it gratefully, groaning with pleasure as the liquid cooled her throat. His spine stiffened at the primal sound of it.

"Thanks," she said, her voice coming out raspy after her nap.

"'Welcome," he replied, finally looking down at her. In the dim light of the morning, the blue irises of her eyes had deepened to a dark cobalt. She looked at him over her glass as she drank, obviously emboldened by the alcohol coursing through her veins, while Scorpius breathed through his nose, making his best attempts to appear unruffled by her blatant staring.

Rose suddenly moved closer and smirked when she realized he'd caught his breath, affected by her close proximity.

"I didn't get to thank you properly earlier, for keeping my secret," she said, and Scorpius felt his blood race at the mention of her conversation with Demetrius. He finished his glass and set it down on the counter with a bang, startling himself with his own violence.

"I don't want to be your secret keeper, Rose," he said, his frustration evident.

"I know," she replied, leaning against the cabinets as if rather enjoying herself, "but you know now, and I trust you to keep it."

He said nothing, and she boldly rested a hand on his chest. He knew his heart was beating an allegro rhythm beneath her palm and his cashmere jumper.

She moved her face closer to his, brushing his lips softly with her own, and Scorpius cursed himself as his eyes involuntarily slid closed his eyes in response to the kiss. It was warm, and it was slightly wet, and it felt entirely wrong - not at all the way he'd imagined it.

"That can be a secret, too," she said, smiling over her shoulder as she retreated to Albus' room.

* * *

Scorpius awoke to a crash, and a string of half-whispered expletives. He rolled out of bed and opened his bedroom door to see Rose Granger-Weasley sprawled in the middle of the living room he shared with Al, half-dressed in one of Albus' old Slytherin jumpers, rubbing a spot on her leg where a bruise was already blossoming.

"You've got so many _fucking_ lamps," she said, as way of a greeting.

"Calm down, Weasley," he said, rolling his eyes, his heart beating a tattoo on his chest at the sight of her after their encounter last night, "You've probably done more harm to the lamp than it's done to you."

She glared from her spot on the floor, and rooted around for her wand.

"Where the hell is..." she muttered, her wild hair tumbling around her shoulders like a mane.

Scorpius plucked the object from the end table by the couch, where she had placed it for safe-keeping the night before. He handed it to her, and she took it with a huff.

" _Thank you..._?" he prompted.

"Yeah," she said, winding her hair into a knot, and tucking her wand in for safekeeping. "Thanks."

Scorpius wandered across their living room into the open plan kitchen, taking two mugs from the cabinet as he did so, and flicking his own wand at the kettle, which started to boil right away.

"You're up early," he said casually.

"I've got work," she said, grumbling.

"On a weekend?"

"It's..." she blushed, and Scorpius had to take a moment to convince himself he was unaffected by how pretty it made her look. "I'm working a couple of Sundays in lieu of days I've missed recently." She said this while staring at her toes.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows, but decided to tactfully stay silent to spare her any embarrassment.

"Tea?" he asked, pouring the kettle for his own drink.

"Please," she said, coming to take the mug he offered her.

"How do you take it?"

"White, three sugars," she said, and he passed her the sugar dish with an incredulous look.

" _Three_ sugars?" he asked, judging.

"What?" she grinned cheekily, practically dumping the sweetener into her drink while he watched on incredulously. "My grandparents are dentists, I had to rebel somehow."

Scorpius bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something sarcastic about how Rose's tendencies to rebel stretched far beyond her sweet tooth. After a beat, he decided to steer the conversation in a slightly safer direction.

"Dentists? Aren't those like... don't remind me...muggle teeth doctors?" he asked, stirring his own tea.

"Yes," she said, and then added, quirking her head, "You took Muggle Studies?"

He smiled back at her airly. "I guess you weren't the only one who wanted to rebel."

A thump from the other room told them that Albus had woken up. He appeared at the doorway, wearing a too-small Wimbourne Wasps shirt and a pair of muggle boxer shorts. "Morning," he said through a yawn, his hand rumpling his own messy black hair. "Is that tea?"

Scorpius passed him a mug of tea the way he liked it, wordlessy, as Rose looked on. "You two are like, _married_." she remarked, wrinkling her nose.

"He should only be so lucky," Scorpius grumbled good-naturedly, and Rose laughed.

"Better him than you, Rosie," Al said, tugging on one of her errant curls. "You snore like a forest troll."

"I do not!" she protested loudly.

"You do," he countered. "And you hog the covers. That's the last time I let you crash in my bed, you'd have been fine on the couch."

"I wouldn't have, your couches are rubbish and hard." She replied, finishing her tea

"Fair enough," Al laughed. "Guess it's better it was my bed rather than Scorp's, then." He waggled his eyebrows at his cousin in a way that made Scorpius want to die.

"Yes, well that would have been very... inappropriate." Scorpius said, lamely. Albus sniggered into his tea, and Scorpius made a mental note to hex him later.

Rose seemed to miss the tension between the pair of them. "Well, I have to get to work," she said, performing a quick _Scourgify!_ on her empty mug and setting it back on the counter. She grabbed her things from beside the couch, and kissed Al quickly on the cheek.

"Bye, Malfoy," she called, sending him a little wink. Scorpius fought to control the muscles on his face from breaking out into a smile.

"Bye, Weasley," he said, in a tone he thought was appropriately casual, and watched her walk from his flat to apparate outside.

When she was gone, Albus turned to him with a laugh. "You are such a goner, mate," he said, clapping him on the back and returning to his bedroom with a shake of his head.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Anything recognizable, I do not own.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 **Rose**

* * *

If Anderson droned on any longer, Rose thought she might just _Avada_ herself then and there. Yes, it was nice that he'd had a _lovely_ holiday with his wife and kids in the Canary Islands, and _yes_ , she was happy that he'd gotten to reconnect with his moody teenager over snorkeling and whatever-other-shit people did on a family holiday, but _Merlin,_ the man wouldn't shut up. She was going to have to spell-o-tape her eyelids open if he kept going at this rate. She concentrated on staring into one of Anderson's beady eyes, and then the other. Maybe if she just kept nodding, he wouldn't notice that her eyes had glazed over.

"Rose, can I - borrow you for a second to look at this report?" came the voice of her friend Portia Thomas, from across the room.

"Yes!" she knew she'd gotten up too quickly to be discreet, but she'd been genuinely on the brink of death by boredom.

"Merlin's tits," Portia said as Rose sat down beside her, waving her wand to put up a _muffliato_ so that the girls could talk at a normal volume without anybody overhearing. "I thought you were going to melt into your desk just to get away from that conversation."

Rose laughed with relief and grimaced at her friend. "I think I need therapy after that. I kept picturing him on the beach in a speedo."

Portia choked on the water she'd been drinking. "That is _vile_ ," she said when she'd recovered.

Rose nodded and pretended to be gagging.

"So, how was your weekend?" Portia asked when the two of them had recovered from their laughter. "How was working Sunday with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Horrible," Rose said, shooting a furtive glance at their boss, who was sat at her desk in the adjoining room. Cassandra Kyle looked as irritatingly bright and chipper today as any day, with her pin-straight mahogany coloured hair and gently pressed lilac robes. She was sipping tea from a bone china set she'd brought into the office specifically for when she wanted to impress the higher-ups.

"Uptight bitch," Portia said, her eyes following Rose's glare. They giggled again.

"Girls," Cassandra said, coming to the doorway of her office and raising an eyebrow at the two of them, while Portia quickly took the silencing charm off of them. Cassandra smiled, but it didn't reach her calculated, cool eyes. "Are we working, or are we chatting?"

"Portia was just showing me the report she's done on the new curriculum outline for the NEWT-level arithmancy course," Rose lied easily.

Cassandra's smile was so bright and insincere, it was almost frightening. "Lovely," she said, and returned to her desk.

Portia smirked at her friend.

"Agrippa's sake, I hate her," Rose spewed as they stepped out of the Department of Magical Education offices to head out to lunch. Portia laughed freely, and agreed.

"She's just so _simpering_ ," Rose continued, "And did you see the way she behaved when Peters was in the office earlier? Such a brown noser!" She undid the top button on her robes angrily, and shook out her mass of red curls.

"I know," Portia said, hitching her bag higher up on her shoulder and nodding her head. "I swear I'm going to just accidentally slip a calming draught into her stupid china teacup one day, just to see if we can turn her into an actual decent human for a change."

Rose laughed and turned to the elevator, which had suddenly arrived on their floor. She stepped inside, and started with a shock.

"Mum."

Hermione Granger-Weasley looked every bit the professional, her brown curly hair smoothed back into an elegant updo that Rose never could have managed. Her smile was easy and genuine as she hugged her only daughter. "Rose, sweetheart, it's good to see you." she said, sounding delighted at their run-in.

"Hello, Madam Minister," Portia said, sounding as if she were encountering particularly strict teacher, rather than Rose's mum.

"Ms. Thomas," Hermione said, shaking the girl's hand and smiling at her kindly, "always a pleasure." Rose's friend did a strange little curtsy, and Rose had to keep herself from snorting as her mother left the lift.

"I hope you'll come for dinner on Sunday, Rose," her mother said, turning to her before she left with a pointed stare, "Your nan's been asking after you, and it'd mean a lot to her if you came." She smiled and walked down the hallway, her heels clicking on the floor, as if she hadn't just essentially guilt-tripped her own daughter.

Rose sighed, knowing her brilliant mother had played the grandmother card to her distinct advantage. Instead, she turned to Portia, shaking her head.

"I can't believe you _curtsied_ ," she said, snorting.

"She's the _Minister for Magic,_ Rose, and she helped to defeat Voldemort," her friend replied indignantly.

"She's just my mum," Rose muttered, grumbling a bit.

"Yeah," said Portia with reverence, _"exactly."_

* * *

When Rose arrived home, it was an empty and cold flat that awaited her. Kicking off her boots, she busied herself with the kettle, letting the steaming mug of tea warm her insides as she threw a ball of flames into the fireplace with her wand. The sound of the fire crackled and reverberated around the empty flat.

Rose sighed, glancing in her cupboards for something to eat, and found an old can of tomato soup. She heated it up quickly, and sat down to eat it with a battered old novel from her shelf, ignoring the sound of deafening silence in her home.

She finished her soup, cleaned the dishes the slow Muggle way, and was still done by half seven. Rose stood at her counter for a minute, willing herself to go and pick up her book again and change into her pyjamas. After a moment of half-hearted internal battling, she grabbed her wand from her pocket, and headed outside to disapparate.

She arrived with a _crack_ outside of a fancy flat complex in wizarding London, heading with purpose for a second story apartment that overlooked Diagon Alley. When she knocked on the door, it was opened by a handsome man whose smirk was only accentuated by the lazy aristocratic way he draped himself across the doorframe.

"Can I help you?" He said.

"You know, I think you can," Rose said, pushing her way into the flat.

"Didn't expect you to be here tonight, Weasley," he said, shutting the door behind her and flicking his wand to conjure up two wine glasses. He made his way into the kitchen to find a drink to fill the goblets.

"I didn't expect to be here, Selwyn." she said, purring as he handed her a glass full of sparkling elf-made wine. She took a sip, watching him over the rim of her glass as she did.

"I'm glad you are, though," he said, touching the side of her face. His hands were cold.

"Me too," she lied, and let him kiss her soundly as he moved her to the bedroom.

It was all over rather soon. Afterwards, he began to snore softly, and Rose was left staring at the ceiling, counting the knots in the wooden beams, wondering how she'd ended up back in bed with Rhys Selwyn, of all people. She didn't even _like_ him.

There were a series of knots in the wood that looked almost like a face. Rose stared at it so long that she didn't realize that the dots were blurring from tears. Hot, fat drops silently fell down her cheeks in a salty river, burning their trail on her face. Rose swiped at one with her hand, and sat up quietly. "I'm going home now," she said, though she knew Selwyn was asleep and couldn't hear her. The words fell flat, masked by the sounds of his gentle snoring.

She quickly put her clothes on, gathered up her coat, and left.

* * *

Sunday came slowly. The workdays were measured, gruelling torture, and the nights flashed by in a tangle of sheets, limbs, and alcohol. By the time the weekend came, Rose was worn out, and spent much of it in bed, sleeping and avoiding the world.

Sunday afternoon, however, was family time. Rose knew that her presence at the Burrow was not only desired, but after the run-in with her mother on Monday, it was now expected. The Weasleys, who never did anything by halves, threw a weekly roast dinner at Rose's grandparents in Devon every Sunday, and whatever family members could make it would religiously turn up. Rose had used a handful of excuses to get out of attending for the last month of so, but was now inconveniently bereft of credible reasons for her absence. So it was with begrudging reluctance she floo'ed over to the Burrow that Sunday afternoon.

She nearly walked back into the fire as soon as she arrived. It was absolute chaos. There were redheads everywhere; in the sitting room, chatting and gossiping about Merlinknew what, in the backyard, tiny children with brightly coloured hair chased each other on broomsticks, and in the kitchen, just about every cousin Rose had was crowded around her grandmother, baking pies or stirring sauces, or just generally getting in the way.

"Have we been breeding again?" she asked Albus, who was tucked up with a book in one corner of the living room that wasn't completely overrun by Weasleys.

He grimaced. "Godric knows Vic and Teddy are," he said, as a child with magenta hair streaked past, chasing Rose's mother's cat.

"I can't believe I agreed to this," Rose muttered, folding her arms across her chest, glancing around the room and wondering if she could make a clean getaway.

"I can't believe you did, either," Albus said, setting down his book. It was _Seventy-Two Magical Uses for Your Home Garden_ , Rose noted with a snort.

"My mum cornered and coerced me," she explained to him, "in the lift at work, with her eyes."

Al nodded knowingly.

"Rosie!" Came a voice from behind her, and her little brother's broad smile came into view. She grinned back, a part of her instantly relaxing when she saw him.

"Hugh," she said, opening her arms. "I didn't know you were back!"

"Been back for nearly a week now," he said, smiling, though his freckled forehead crinkled slightly. "Which you'd _know_ if you'd been 'round to mum and dad's at all lately."

Rose ignored the jibe, and instead pinched her younger brother on his cheek and kiss him on the forehead, which was quite a feat considering he'd inherited their father's height.

"I missed you," she said genuinely, "how was Russia?"

"Fucking cold," he laughed, his blue eyes twinkling. "But, yeah, great. Fascinating, and all that."

"Did you find the creatures you were looking for?" Albus asked.

"No," her brother said, the light in his eyes dimming slightly, "we were on the trail of a Cikavac, but we lost its tracks and couldn't catch it," he frowned, "It's a real shame, because finding one could mean incredible advancement in communication with magical creatures."

"Will you get to go back again?" Rose asked.

"I don't know - just this one trip cost us galleons of funding. I don't know if there'll be another one anytime soon." he half-smiled at them.

"Well," Rose said, attempting to turn the conversation around. "At least you'll be home for a while now. Mum and Dad must be thrilled to have you back."

"Yeah," he grinned, "feels like _ages_ since I was home. How are you?" his face turned serious. "How are you after the split with - you know..." Rose felt Albus tense beside her.

"Fine." she smiled, effectively ending the conversation.

Fortunately, a bell rung out, signalling dinner time. They all shuffled into the magically expanded dining room, calling out to one another and laughing. Rose took a seat between her brother and Albus, directly across from her cousins Lily and Roxy, who both waved when they saw Rose. She gazed along the table to where her gran was sitting at the head, her granddad mirroring her place on the other end. When Rose's gran saw that she was looking her way, she sent a wink to her granddaughter.

As Rose tucked into the meal, she readily admitted she _had_ missed her grandmother's cooking. But looking around at the table, at the happy faces smiling and joking, she felt like an imposter. A year ago, she would have been one of them. A year ago, she'd been proud to be a Weasley, happy to be a part of this gigantic, crazy, loving family.

Now, she was an outsider.

Her eyes met Albus', and for a moment, she relaxed. Albus, at least, was an outsider too.

"So, Rose," her Aunt Audrey leaned across the table, smiling at her, "How's work been going for you?" Rose could see her mother a few seats down pretending not to listen to their conversation.

"It's fine," Rose mustered a smile back, diplomatic as anything. "It's very interesting work."

"Rose was picked out of many applicants for this role, and we have high hopes for her future in the Department of Magical Education," said her mother breezily, spearing a brussel sprout with a smile at Audrey, clearly haven given up pretending not to eavesdrop.

"I still haven't forgiven her for taking a job at the Ministry and not becoming a Chudley Cannon," her dad said, sending a wink at her. Though Rose knew it was meant to be a joke, she swallowed the disappointment in her father's voice like a bitter pill.

Her mother laughed airily. "Rose had _nine_ Outstanding NEWTs," she told her father, as if he didn't already know.

"I'm just saying - we could have used a strong left-field chaser on the team-"

"Yes, well she was very qualified for her Ministry job," her mother said, raising an eyebrow at her father. "And we're all very proud of the good work she's doing there."

Albus snorted into his mashed potatoes, and Rose elbowed him quickly.

"Albus Severus," his mother scolded him.

"What?" Al said, looking up from his food. "Don't you all pretend that you're not coddling her. She shows up to work hungover every day, and she _hates_ her job, Aunt Hermione. Everybody can see it."

Rose nearly choked on the bit of turkey she'd bit into.

"I don't - I don't _hate_ -" she spluttered.

"You do." Albus said, looking at her with those deep green eyes. "Why don't you just tell them the truth instead of being miserable to please them all the time?" He shoved back his chair from the table, and left the room.

Rose stared at her plate, avoiding eye contact with her parents, her cousins. The room was rather quiet now.

"I'll go talk to Albus," Harry said, quickly rising from the table.

"Rose, is that true?" her mother said, staring at her with obvious concern. "Do you hate your job at the Ministry?"

"Excuse me," Rose said, and left the table as well.

She found Albus with her Uncle Harry in her father's childhood bedroom, and rounded on him, not caring that her uncle was present.

"What the _fuck,_ Al," she yelled, forgetting in her anger to cast a silencing charm on the room. "Why the hell did you just throw me under the bus like that?"

He stood, bracing himself for a fight, "Because, Rose, you wander around like a zombie these days, and half the time nobody knows what to say to you! You've been avoiding your family, avoiding your friends, and I'm _sick_ and _tired_ of everybody walking on eggshells around you!"

"Oh, look who's talking! You spent the entirety of our school years being the Weasley family martyr, and when I spend _a few weeks_ less than perfectly happy, all of a sudden I'm the drama queen?" She could see her own face turning a sort of reddish-purplish hue in the mirror opposite her, but neglected to care. Her Uncle Harry was backing out of the room, slowly.

"It's been months, Rose! And you've been _far_ from happy!" He yelled, his hands waving wildly at her as if he were not sure what to do with them. Albus took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair angrily before letting them fall limply to his sides.

"Look," he said, calmer now, "I'm worried about you. I don't know what to do, so I figured your parents might."

Rose huffed at him angrily, her arms crossing in front of her chest defensively. "I'm fine, Albus," she said, though she was annoyed to hear her voice's lack of conviction.

"You're not." he said, staring at her.

There was a beat of silence where Rose felt alarmingly as if she may cry. "I need to go," she said, and fled the room.

She meant to slip out of the house unseen, and send her regrets to her family with an owl later, but when she made her way into the back garden, her nan was already there.

She was watering her plants silently, seemingly haven given up on the family dinner. Molly didn't glance up as her granddaughter approached, but her watering can had stilled. "We planted this rose bush the day you were born," she said, nodding to a flourishing plant, covered in the white flowers.

"Nana," Rose said, a lump forming in her throat, "I'm so sorry about what just happened back there, I didn't mean to ruin your Sunday roast."

Her grandmother waved her hand noncommittally and smiled, placing a hand on Rose's cheek. "There will be other Sundays," she said. And then, she wrapped the younger woman into a hug. No other words were spoken, because no other words were needed.

"I love you, Nana," Rose said, after a while.

"Love you too, Rosie," Molly replied, smoothing down her granddaughter's wild curls. "Now go home, and get some rest. I'll deal with the family."

"Thank you," said Rose, and left to disapparate with a _crack_.

That night, she dreamed she was lost in a maze of rose bushes, pricked a thousand times until the flowers turned red and she awoke in a cold sweat.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: No matter how much I'd like it to be, nothing you recognise from the HP universe is mine.**

* * *

Chapter Four

Scorpius

* * *

"Father," Scorpius said, striding into the older man's office rather more confidently than he felt.

Draco Malfoy sat at his desk, his immaculately tailored robes hung over the back of the grandly upholstered chair he occupied. The elder Malfoy held up one hand as his son entered, scratching out a letter in impossibly elegant calligraphy. Scorpius rocked on his heels, breathing through his nose as he waited for Draco to finish. His gaze wandered around the room, barely taking in the lavish furnishings and roaring fire in the hearth before his father finished the letter he was writing with a flourish, and turned his gaze to his son. He regarded Scorpius thoughtfully as he stroked the eagle-feather quill in his hands.

"What can I help you with?" Draco asked. He sat back in the high-backed chair, his quill twirling deftly between his slender fingers. He nodded towards a second chair upholstered in a green velvet with intricate mahogany carvings up its spindle. Scorpius' fingers traced one incredibly life-like miniature carving of a snake, but he did not sit. Instead, he took a deep breath, bracing himself.

"Father," Scorpius said again, internally wincing at the formal tone in his own voice, but he'd long ago given up the notion of having a warm and fuzzy relationship with the elder Malfoy. "You have no right to meddle in my personal affairs."

Draco lifted one eyebrow and sighed, his features taking on quite a haughty aristocratic air that Scorpius knew he could never quite imitate, despite the striking similarities in their features. "You're speaking of the evening I've arranged for you with Miss Moreau, I presume?"

Scorpius flushed deeply, already hating the fact that he was having this conversation. "I am perfectly able to set up my own dates, thanks."

"Which is why you haven't been on one in nearly two years?"

"I'm not interested in dating," Scorpius replied, stubbornly shoving his hands into his robe pockets and staring at his brogue shoes rather than meeting his father's piercing gaze.

"No," Draco said, standing up, pouring himself a dark liquid from the crystal tumbler on his desk, "And that's precisely the issue. When your mother passed, I promised her I would everything in my power to provide and care for you, and this includes making sure you settle down and someday create a family of your own. If it were up to you, you'd spend the rest of your days with the company of only your books."

Scorpius winced, meeting his father's eyes. "Please don't play the guilt card, talking about mum." he said.

Draco brushed over this comment as if it had never been made. "She's quite pretty." he said, his light eyes following his son as he paced the room.

"I don't care if she's a bloody veela, I won't be seeing her." Scorpius raised one eyebrow in a poor imitation of the Malfoy heir he was. His father sighed and his gaze returned to his work, as if he were bored by his son's ridiculous notions.

"Whether or not you like it, Scorpius," he said, brushing a non-existent bit of lint off of his robes, "you are a Malfoy, and it is your duty to provide an heir and continue the bloodline. Though blood itself is not regarded as important as it was in my day, Eloise Moreau is from a good family, has a respectable career, and would make you a most agreeable match."

Scorpius bristled, drawing himself up to his full height, just slightly above his father's, something he was eternally shocked by. "I won't be forced into an arranged marriage." he said.

"Of course not," Draco replied, sitting back down at his desk as though he knew the matter was finished. "One date is all I'm asking for."

Somehow Scorpius didn't think that would be turn out to be true.

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy was tired, sore, and in a foul mood. He hadn't eaten all day save from his one paltry slice of toast at breakfast, and he'd been deciphering the most elementary and boring runes for a colleague's presentation for the last three hours. To top it off, his absolute wanker of a boss had taken a half day for a "personal appointment" that Scorpius guessed was meeting a friend down the local pub and drinking away the afternoon while listening to the Quidditch. All in all, it had been a pretty shit day.

Checking his wristwatch and deciding half five was near enough the end of the day, he gathered his satchel and flicked his wand at the lanterns hanging from the low ceiling so that they flickered out. He performed the necessary locking charms quickly, and closed the creaky, rusted door behind him and wandered down the overgrown path that would dump him out onto the cobbled streets of rainy muggle London. His nose caught a whiff of a nearby chippy shop, and Scorpius paused for a second, breathing in the salty, delicious smell before turning down a back alley and apparating back to his flat.

Scorpius coulf tell Al was already home from the sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen. There was an old radio playing songs that reminded Scorp of being at Albus' nan's house, and his best mate's tenor chimed in every few lines, off-key and slightly warbling. Scorpius dropped his coat and bag in the hall without hanging either (something he knew his father would've have his head for), and entered the kitchen to find his friend stirring milk into a cup of tea as he sang along to Celestina Warbeck.

Scorpius shook his head as Albus indicated the teapot, and instead headed to the pantry to grab himself a butterbeer, popping the cork with his wand and taking a large gulp of the warming liquid.

"Rough day?" Al asked, sipping his mug of English Breakfast and peering at his friend over the rim.

"You have no idea."

The boys were silent for a moment, Scorpius glaring into his bottle even as the taste of it warmed his insides. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the darkening window, noting that his usually unruly mop of white-blond hair was sticking up more than usual, as if he'd been running his hands through it.

"You all right, mate?" Al asked, setting down his tea.

Scorpius sighed, taking another swig of butterbeer and running his hands through his hair again. "My dad's trying to play matchmaker again," he said with a slight snarl.

Albus laughed. "Is that all? My mum mentions daughters of various friends of the family every time I go home. It's just a parent thing." Seemingly confident that his best mate was worried over nothing, Albus picked up his mug again and made his way into the living room, kicking off his shoes as he did so and flinging himself upon the couch.

Scorpius followed, kicking Al's shoes towards the door and loosening the tie he still wore. He came to sit on the opposite couch, sinking into the plush leather cushions. "You don't understand, mate," he said with a groan, "This is more than just setting me up on a date. He's trying to find me a match. He was going on about finding a nice girl from a respectable family."

Al's eyes widened. "But your dad's renounced all that blood-purity bollocks," he countered.

"Just because it's not necessarily about blood purity doesn't mean he doesn't expect me to carry on the Malfoy name."

"Bloody hell," Al exclaimed, sinking back into his couch. "He can't expect you to marry, we're only twenty-three!"

"Our parents got married when they were our age," Scorpius said miserably.

" _Bloody hell_ ," Al repeated with emphasis, finishing his tea with a gulp. Then, suddenly, he brightened. "At least this means you won't have to pine after my cousin anymore."

"I do not pine-" Scorpius began, but was abruptly cut off.

"Sure you don't. And I'm half-kneazle."

Scorpius threw the nearest book at his flatmate's head, which Al easily dodged.

"So who's old Draco set you up with, anyway?" Albus asked, going to the kitchen to fetch himself a butterbeer.

"Her name's Eloise... Eloise Moreau?" he asked, and the sound of Al's footsteps immediately paused. Scorpius turned to find his friend standing stock still, his eyes wide. "She's French," he added, unhelpfully.

Albus seemed to come out of his fog and slowly uncorked the butterbeer, taking a long swig while Scorpius studied him.

"You know her?" the blond finally asked.

Albus came to sit on the couch again, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

"She's - er, a friend of the family. That is - her older sister's best mates with my cousin Dominique, and, well - our paths may have crossed a couple of summers ago in Paris..." he trailed off.

"You fucked my future wife," Scorpius said, grinning despite himself. "I can't believe you."

"I didn't know she might be your future wife!" Albus exclaimed, his green eyes wide. "How was I to know?" Scorpius just laughed incredulously, burying his head in his hands and groaning.

"You're such a slag, Al" he said, choking on his laughter.

"Well, look on the bright side," Albus said, wringing his hands, his dark hair sticking on end. "You can tell your dad she's not the untarnished lady he believes, and then you're off the hook with marrying her."

"There are very few respectable families left that would allow their daughter to marry a Malfoy after the Second Wizarding War," Scorpius sighed, straightening and wiping the grin off of his face. "He's had to resort to a French girl as it is, if you think he'll let a thing like this get in the way of carrying on the Malfoy line, then you're sorely mistaken."

There was a beat as they both contemplated this. The clock that hung above the mantel ticked unhelpfully, magnifying the silence.

"Merlin," Al breathed, uncharacteristically sombre, "I'm sorry I shagged your wife, mate."

Al summoned Scorpius another butterbeer, and he took a massive swig. "S'okay," he replied.

* * *

Scorpius tugged at his shirt collar and tried valiantly to focus on the conversation at hand. Eloise was rambling on about something having to do with her job as an Unspeakable, waving her hands wildly as Scorpius found French girls were wont to do. He nodded aimlessly at whatever she was saying, and tried focusing on one of her light blue eyes, then on the other. There was a speck of grey in one of them, and Scorpius found himself instantly distracted. He was staring at the speck, wondering if it was a natural discoloration or if she'd perhaps gotten a bit of makeup in her eye, when he realized she'd stopped speaking and was looking at him expectantly.

"Erm - sorry?" he asked, knowing he must look an absolute idiot. There was a beat where Eloise looked distinctly unimpressed, but she recovered quickly with a smile.

"I was just saying that this restaurant has a lovely atmosphere, don't you agree?" she repeated with her light French accent.

"Oh," Scorpius said dumbly, glancing around at the dimly lit restaurant with several young but stuffy-looking patrons lounging around on the plush chairs, looking as if they were drinking away their trust funds. Scorpius was pretty sure all of the waiters in the place were named things like Templeton and Wadworth. His father had chosen the place "Yes. Very nice." he lied.

Their waiter came to the table with the food they'd ordered, and there were several long minutes where neither said anything. Scorpius was just about to speak out of desperation about something, anything, when Eloise pushed set down her fork and took a large sip of the elderwine Scorpius' father had pre-ordered them a bottle of.

"So, our parents want us to marry," she said, as casually as if she were speaking of the weather. Scorpius immediately choked on the bit of steak he had been chewing.

She waited for him to recover, smirking at him slightly above her crystal glass. "So it would seem," he finally managed to say.

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes so that her long lashes brushed her fair cheeks. She really was rather pretty, Scorpius realized suddenly. Though blondes weren't usually his thing - it felt just a tad too _Malfoy_ for his tastes.

"What are we going to do about it, then?" She asked, looking up at him with big blue eyes.

"What can we do?" Scorpius laughed bitterly, "If I know my father, the arrangements had been made long before we actually sat down to dinner tonight."

" _Mon Pere_ is the same," she laughed. "Only concerned with finding me an advantageous marriage." Then her eyes narrowed, glittering with mischief, and Scorpius somehow found himself leaning in towards her conspiratorially.

"If we get married, they'll get off our backs," she said, quirking one eyebrow. "That way, we can carry on with our lives without their constant interference."

Scorpius sat back, shell-shocked. Was she really suggesting what he thought? "So it would be..."

"A marriage in name only, yes." She said, sipping her wine again.

He blinked slowly, once, twice.

"Think about it," she offered.

Before he could say another word, however, the waiter hurried up to their table, a thin letter in his proffered hand.

"Master Malfoy," he said in a clipped tone. "My apologies. A most urgent correspondence from your father."

Scorpius took the letter, frowning. It must be important if his father were to risk his son's first date with the woman he meant for him to marry. His hands trembled as he opened the letter, and all blood drained from his face as he read the correspondence.

"I'm sorry - I have to get home." he said, standing from the table and walking away from Eloise without a single glance behind.

* * *

Gregory Goyle wasn't an extravagant man by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a wizard who enjoyed his creature comforts. Though that Granger girl has outlawed the keeping of house elves as indentured servants many years prior, Gregory could still afford to employ one rather loyal elf whose lineage had been connected to the Goyle family for centuries, and was more than happy to work for the elvish minimum wage in Britain. It was for this reason that the bachelor Goyle was able to enjoy a home-cooked meal by a roaring fire when he returned home from work every night.

This particular night in late September, however, the hearth was cold and ashy with the remnants of the previous night's flames, and there was no familiar sound of pots and pans clinking from the kitchen. Goyle waited patiently for a good fifteen minutes or so, busying himself by changing out of his work uniform into something a bit more comfortable, before deciding to investigate the hold up.

"Tansy?" he called into the kitchen, expecting various apologies from the little elf. He was met with a troubling silence.

"Tansy?" he tried again, a note of concern creeping into his voice as he pushed open the door to the kitchen.

Goyle never saw the wand pointed at his temple, but before the blackness consumed him, he heard the steady, quiet words:

"Nox Aeterna."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Just wanted to take a quick second to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone who's reviewed/favourited/followed up to this point. You guys seriously make my day.**

 **Disclaimer: _Still_ not mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

 **Rose**

* * *

"Don't worry, I'm sure they will have forgotten all about the incident at Nana's," Hugo said, steering his older sister towards the front door of their parents' house. Rose, weakly protesting, attempted to dig in her heels to no avail. Her brother was nearly twice her size.

"Come on, Ro," he said, relieving his grip on her arms and crossing his own in front of his rather impressive chest. "What are you so afraid of?"

"Mum and Dad've suspected I'm a fuck up for the past few months, Hugo," she said, her voice steel, "And ever since Al's little outburst, they _know_ I am."

"You're not a fuck up," her brother said, wrinkling his freckled face at her. "Not _that_ much of one, anyway."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed. "Come on, munchkin," he said, a nickname he knew she hated, considering Rose was the elder sibling. He smirked at the face she pulled and started again towards the house. "You can't hang out in the garden forever."

Rose sighed and followed him in.

The smells that hit her immediately made her eyes start to water, and Rose turned towards the wall to remove her scarf so that her brother wouldn't see the annoying tears that'd immediately sprung to her eyes. She could almost hear the laughter in this house, feel its radiating warmth that had permeated her childhood. Somehow, though, she no longer felt as if she belonged to the house. It was a curious thing, coming home to a place that had been frozen in time only to find you were the one who had changed.

"Mum?" Hugo called out, making his way through the house in the direction of Hermione's home office. Rose followed him, holding her breath for some odd reason.

"In here," came the sound of her mother's voice, accompanied by the rustling of papers. They entered the bright and cosy office to find their mother seated at her large oak desk, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose and several very official-looking documents open in front of her. Her light brown hair had begun to spring from her elegant updo, curling in tendrils around her face. Rose noticed that several of her mum's grey hairs stood out prominently in the low light that shone in from the impressive arched windows behind where she sat. The late afternoon sun filtered in, lighting the place and dancing off the bright yellow walls of the study. Rose suddenly remembered taking a family holiday to Italy when she was a child, and her mother becoming besotted with the expansive fields of sunflowers throughout Tuscany. When they'd returned to England, Rose's father had decorated Hermione's study for her - "sunflower yellow", they'd always called it.

"Rose," Hermione said, looking up with surprise. "We weren't expecting you tonight."

"I bribed her," Hugo said, and Rose trod on his toes in retaliation. "I told her we'd make a banoffee pie."

"That's - that's lovely dear, why don't the two of you get started and I'll come to join you?" the older witch said, shuffling her papers. "I'm just nearly done looking over the notes for this trial case."

"Where's dad?" Hugo said, looking around as if all six feet and three inches of their father was hidden somewhere among the bookshelves.

"Your father's been called into the Ministry," she said, trying to make her voice sound light and nonchalant. It was a trick Rose knew well, one that meant her mother was masking some deeper emotion. "There was a case that the Auror department needed his help with."

"But dad hasn't worked for the Auror department since we were kids," Rose said from the doorway.

Her mother's brown eyes met her own, and Rose was startled to see the worry in them.

"It's just one case," she said, looking back to her papers. "Why don't you two wash up and start with making the pastry? I'll be in in a minute." She turned back to her notes, ending the conversation.

Rose followed her brother into the large family kitchen and immediately hopped up onto the wide countertop. Hugo made his way through the various cupboards, removing the ingredients they would need and placing them next to Rose on the counter.

"They're hiding something from us, Mum and Dad are." Rose told him.

"If they are, I'm sure they have good reason," Hugo said, always the practical sibling.

"Don't you want to know why?" Rose asked incredulously. "Dad always said he was happy not to work for the Auror department anymore, because he was too old to be in the line of fire. What could be so serious that he would go back?"

"I don't know, Rose," Hugo huffed, placing his hands on his hips. "But I'm sure they'll tell us if it's important."

"Hmmmm," Rose hummed, unsatisfied, but made no reply. Instead, she drummed her fingers on the countertop and watched as her brother began to make the shortcrust pastry and homemade toffee. He whistled a bit to himself as he stirred together the sauce with slow spiral motions of his wand. Once it had begun to cool, she dipped her fingers into the caramelly goo, earning herself a sharp slap on the wrist from Hugo.

"If you're not going to help, go and see what's held Mum up," he suggested.

Rose rolled her eyes, but heeded his advice and hopped off the counter, padding her way to the office again. At the doorway, she paused when she heard noises from within. Rose debated for a moment, then ultimately the curiosity got the better of her. She pressed her ear to the slightly cracked open door, and was surprised to hear her father's voice from inside.

"-one of the more confusing cases I've seen, Hermione," he was saying, though his voice was muffled by the crackling of the fire. Rose realized her mother must be speaking to him through the floo. "His mind has no obvious signs of being tampered with, but he has no recollection at all of the Wizarding world. Everything involving magic seems to be blurred over, or replaced with new memories."

"How is that possible? Was anyone else involved?"

"We found a house elf tied up in the closet, but she says she never saw her attacker's face" Ron admitted, and her mother made a strangled noise of grief. Rose knew she'd always had a soft spot for elves. "We have Boyd and Wilkinson on the case of retrieving Goyle's memories, but they've yet to make any progress. It's all incredibly thorough, I've never seen anything like it. But it's the oddest thing - the flat was all very clean, very tidy. No sign of a struggle, nothing stolen at all. Somebody either knew what they were doing or cleaned up the mess afterwards. Harry's treating it now as a memory charm gone wrong, but I don't think that's the case. I think modifying his memory was the purpose of the attack, not a side effect. The attacker left just one clue - a note. It's been analysed by the Department of Mysteries but they've been unable to decipher it as of yet. Harry's owled it to you for investigation - we'll follow up with the Runes experts tomorrow."

Rose breathed in sharply through her nostrils and leant closer to the crack in the door.

"But who would be targeting Gregory Goyle?" her mother mused quietly, so that Rose had to strain to hear.

"The real question is," her father countered, "Who could be capable of doing this?"

They continued to discuss in low voices, and Rose backed away slowly from the door, trying to make sense of what she'd overheard. Rose returned to the kitchen, her ears ringing with the conversation between her parents. She'd heard her father mention a Goyle sporadically throughout her childhood - mainly when telling stories of their own school days, and never in a positive light. She was fairly certain that Gregory Goyle and his family hadn't been on her parents' side during the war. It was puzzling, and darkly ironic, that somebody who'd once considered himself above his muggle counterparts now had no recollection of magic at all.

And why had her father been called in for a one-off memory loss case?

Hugo was applying a cooling spell to the finished pie when she re-entered the kitchen. "You didn't help at all," he whined at her.

"Shh, be quiet, listen to what I just-"

"You're done!" Their mother cried, entering the room. Rose clamped her mouth shut immediately.

"Yeah, no thanks to Ro- ow!" Hugo shrieked as Rose stood on his toe.

"It looks delicious," Hermione said, who was immune to the squabbling of her children after twenty or so years of it.

"Nobody touches it until later," Hugo said, using his muscular body as a shield.

"Will dad be home soon?" Asked Rose, who had not forgotten the situation at hand.

"Yes, sometime soon, I imagine," Hermione said, her face a mask of impassivity. Rose's mum has always been a skilled occlumens. "I should get dinner started. Were the two of you going to help, or-"

"Play chess." The siblings chorused, as their mother let out a sigh.

Rose spent several enjoyable hours beating Hugo in chess, and subsequently taunting him after she'd done so. She watched, endlessly amused, as her little brother's ears turned a bright pink with frustration, trying to work out just exactly how she'd bested him yet again.

It was quarter to nine by the time Rose's father arrived home to find his family finishing up their meal. Rose knew her mother had briefed him to let him know she was at the house, because Ron didn't seem surprised to see his daughter at all. He immediately found his plate on the kitchen counter, and removed the warning spell his wife had placed on it.

"Thanks, this looks amazing, Hermione." he said, kissing Hermione's cheek as he sat down.

"It's only pasta," she said, flushing with pleasure as Rose struggled not to gag at her parents' display of flirtation. Rose watched as her mother grabbed her father's freckled hand, as if second nature. Ron seemed to be only mildly inconvenienced by eating with one hand, but responded to the gesture wholeheartedly, rubbing his wife's knuckles with his thumb. Rose felt her throat close up slightly upon noticing their blatant and obvious affection for one another.

"How was work, dad?" She asked quickly, sitting up straight and raising her eyebrows at her father. Blue eyes that matched her own looked back, giving away nothing.

"Fine," he said, tucking into his food with gusto. "Always interesting to be back with the Auror office."

"Everything all right at the Ministry?" she wheedled, hoping he'd give away something in his face that betrayed any emotion.

"No crazier than usual," he replied with his mouth partially full.

"So what was the case about?" Rose persisted, cupping her chin in her hands and leaning towards him.

"You know that's classified information, Rosie," he said, smiling at her, "couldn't tell you if I wanted to." he smirked, and Rose immediately rankled at the joke. Logically, she knew her temper was getting the better of her, but she hated when her father treated her as if she were a dumb little kid again. Giving a frustrated huff, she rose from the table.

"It's late," she announced to the room as a whole. "I really should be getting back."

"But you haven't had any pie," her mother said, her eyes wide as she looked up at her daughter.

"I'm stuffed, mum, I don't think I could eat another bite."

"Okay," Hermione said, obviously disappointed. "Well it was lovely to see you, Rose, please make sure you come again soon. And take some pie home with you, you look rather thin."

"I will," she said, because it was easier to go along. She allowed her mum to package up a large bit of pie and hugged each of her family members, her father even pausing in shoveling food in his mouth to give her a slightly sticky spaghetti-sauce kiss on her forehead.

"Can I use the floo, mum?" Rose asked.

"Of course," her mother replied, already distracted by cleaning up the dinner. "There's a full pot on the mantle in my office."

Rose made her way to her mother's study, and was about to grab the powder to throw in the fire when she glanced at the papers on the large desk. Quickly checking to be sure she could still hear the family's chatter from the kitchen, she made her way over to the impressive oak surface.

There were several layers of ministry crap that Rose didn't bother to read; several legal-looking documents and the blueprints for some new expansion of Diagon Alley. Shoved to the side, however, was a letter in thick, marbled parchment. The seal on the envelope was one Rose didn't recognize - a thin crescent moon on pitch black wax. She picked it up, curiosity overcoming her, and opened the envelope in one quick movement. There were several spiky black runes that looked nothing like Rose'd ever seen before scattered along the parchment in no decipherable pattern, but three words were written at the bottom. The sloping cursive took a few seconds for Rose to be able to decipher, but once she did, she frowned at the words scratched out on the parchment.

It read; "To Be Continued." There was no signature.

* * *

Rose didn't feel much like going out, which was exactly why she eventually decided to go. If she stayed home and moped, she knew she'd eventually end up drinking a full bottle of wine by herself and find herself in Rhys' bed by morning. So instead of self-medicating and shagging arsehole Slytherins, she invited Lily over, put on the latest Hopping Hippogriffs album, and began the arduous task of straightening her wild head of hair with her wand. She was partway through this process when she heard the crackling of flames in her fire, and her cousin stepped out.

Lily was balancing several bottles of butterbeer in one arm, and several wickedly high pair of heels in the other. Her dark auburn bobbed hair was standing on end and sparking with static, as if she'd just rolled out of bed before heading over to Rose's. The red mark on her cousin's cheek that looked suspiciously like the imprint of a pillow confirmed her suspicions.

"I got us reservations," she said, by way of greeting, unceremoniously dumping the bottles on Rose's sofa and grabbing one for herself.

"Reservations where?" Rose asked, summoning a bottle and uncorking it with her wand. "I thought we were just going to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Nope," Lily said, smiling impishly. "A friend of mine's roommate is the bouncer for that new club, Sonorus? He's put us on the VIP list for the night."

Rose was ready to remark that Lily was the daughter of the arguably best-known celebrity in wizarding Britain and didn't need to pull strings to get onto a guest list, but tactfully held her tongue. Instead, she looked at the dark trousers and button-up her cousin was wearing, and wrinkled her nose. "You're wearing _that?_ " Rose said, shaking her head at her hopeless tomboy of a cousin.

Lily shrugged sheepishly, "I was hoping I could raid your closet?" she suggested. Rose smirked and grabbed Lily by one thin arm.

"Come with me." she said, leading the younger girl into her bedroom.

By the time Rose was satisfied with the outfits both she and Lily were wearing, it was gone ten o'clock and the girls had made their way through the butterbeer and were on to something a bit harder. Rose finished her glass of daisyroot draught and giggled at the sight of her cousin wobbling on her heels, already feeling the effects of the alcohol warming her body. Lily laughed along with her, her cheeks flushed with mirth.

"Oh sweet Merlin, we need to go!" the younger witch said, grabbing Rose's arm for stability as she noticed the clock on the wall. "I told Harrison we'd be there by ten!"

"And we can't keep Harrison waiting, now can we?" Rose waggled her eyebrows, but still grabbed her wand in preparation of heading out the door.

"Bugger off, Rosie," Lily said, turning even pinker and following her cousin out of the flat.

The two of them apparated, finding themselves in front of a the nightclub, which was already heaving with people spilling out onto the street, smoking different brightly coloured substances and bobbing along to music that Rose couldn't hear. Once they crossed the street, however, she immediately felt as if she'd stepped into a bubble where the noise became amplified and the lights became a bit brighter.

"It's an atmospheric charm," Lily shouted above the sound of the music, "Harrison told me about it. Keeps the neighbours from complaining about the noise." Rose nodded appreciatively.

They had no trouble getting in; even with their names on the VIP list, the doorman recognized the girls immediately. Soon, Lily had found her mate Harrison, and sent a cheeky wink over her shoulder at her cousin as she followed him onto the dance floor. Rose watched them for a moment, sipping on a drink and silently commending Lily for her choice in men. Harrison wasn't an Adonis by any means, but he had a cute crooked smile and a boyish charm that matched the younger girl's energy. They swayed together, and Lily laughed at something he'd said.

Rose surveyed the dance floor, the bright and happy faces of witches and wizards who were intoxicated by the alcohol and the club's atmosphere, magical or otherwise. She smiled, but it felt plastic and false. Suddenly, she longed for the comfort of her own bed.

"Didn't fancy a dance?" a voice came from behind her.

Rose turned to see familiar blue eyes trained on her. Toby's gaze glanced over her body, lingering on her chest lewdly, and she crossed her arms, trying to seem unaffected even as her heart felt as if it could beat out of its chest. He looked good, as he usually did, with his hair falling _just so_ and his biceps straining against the casual but fashionable robes he wore.

"What do you want?" she asked, not even gracing his question with an answer.

He had the audacity to look affronted. "Just wanted to see how you're doing, Rosie," he said, his eyebrows raising, a stupid little smirk playing on his face. "Am I not allowed to care about you anymore?"

"Don't pretend you ever cared about me," she scoffed, finishing her drink and slamming it down on the bar, rather forcefully. She was pleased when he flinched slightly. "Don't speak to me again," she warned, her chest tight, feeling as if she were dangerously close to tears. Determined to retain the upper hand, Rose turned on her heel and walked away, her breath coming up short and raspy. Pushing through the crowd, she left the club, desperate for a bit of fresh air.

She emerged from the crowd, bursting through the atmosphere charm and feeling as if she could finally breathe again. Rose stood on the corner, gasping for a moment, forcefully telling herself not to cry. It'd been six months since she'd seen Toby, six months since he'd walked out, and she'd spent the majority of that time attempting to block out any memory of him. Now, faced with him in the flesh, Rose felt the sting of the break-up all over again. She shook her head, feeling her shiny straightened hair glide across her bare back, and wished for the familiarity of her messy curls.

A group of wizards were approaching the club, laughing and obviously intoxicated. Rose held her breath and ducked, letting a thick sheet of hair cover her face from view, but it was too late.

"Hey, are you Rose Granger-Weasley?" one of them asked, hanging back from the group. He glanced at her bare legs, tracing up her body, as if he were devouring her.

"No." she said, and kept on walking.

The world was unbearably dizzy, and Rose tottered on her heels down Diagon Alley, wondering if she was too drunk to work out where Selwyn lived. She was considering apparating despite her intoxication when she surprisingly spotted a familiar shock of white-blond hair up ahead.

"Malfoy!" she said, making him jump. She vaguely recognized that he had a bag of shopping with him and was heading in what must have been the direction of the flat he shared with Albus. He seemed shocked to see her, or perhaps just worried about her safety in heels on the cobbled stones, because he reached out for her as if involuntarily, setting his shopping down to support her weight as she leaned on him. She was very close to him now, and she could count the number of his light blond eyelashes as he stared down at her. He was only just barely taller than her when she was in her heels, and his eyes looked almost translucent, they were such a light grey. He looked as if he were to say speak, probably to say something stupid and smarmy. Godric, she hated his clever little quips, and his stupid hair, too. The world was still spinning around her.

"Shut up," she said before he had a chance to get anything out, and roughly grabbed the back of his neck to forcefully press her lips to his, desperately seeking something or someone to anchor herself to.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Just a friendly little THANK YOU to everyone who has read/favourited/followed and especially reviewed thus far. You guys seriously make my day.**

 **Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise is mine!**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

 **Scorpius**

* * *

In all of his wildest schoolboy fantasies, Scorpius imagined that seducing Rose Granger-Weasley was sure to be some Herculean task. This was not based on any sort of firsthand knowledge, and certainly the rumors going about these days did much to support the idea that Rose was a rather easy catch. Still, she seemed so unattainable, So untouchable in his mind that he never dared to dream he might live those fantasies.

Even as he kissed along her jawline now, he found himself repeating over and over in his own head to wake up. When he didn't, Scorpius felt as though he may pass out from lightheadedness.

He was kissing Rose Granger-Weasley. And she was letting him! And if the little whimpering sounds she was making were any indicator, she seemed to even enjoy it! Merlin's tits!

It had been her idea to go back to his flat, from which Al was mercifully absent. It had been her idea to stumble to his room, _her_ idea to push him back on the bed and straddle him wantonly. She was warm, and although she tasted like a spicy combination of firewhisky and cigarette smoke, she was supple soft in all the best places. Scorpius ran his fingers through her silky sheets of hair and struggled to control his ragged breath, feeling as if Christmas had come early.

He was brought back to reality when he felt Rose's hands began fumbling with the fly of his trousers. Scorpius sighed and reluctantly moved to stop her, sitting with great difficulty. She fell back clumsily, nearly sliding off the end of the bed.

"What's wrong?" She demanded, scowling up at him and blowing out an exasperated breath that reeked of booze. _Charming_.

"I'm not having sex with you tonight, Rose." Scorpius was surprised to get the words out without stumbling over them, though he could feel the tips of his ears turning hot and most likely bright pink at the mere thought of it. He placed a pillow in front of his groin as if to drive the point home.

"Why not?" She asked, her lips grazing his neck and her hands seeking his trousers again, pushing the offending cushion out of the way.

"Rose, I'm serious," he said, though it certainly pained him. "You're drunk. This is not how I want our first time to be."

She laughed cruelly. "Pictured it, have you?" She moved to grope him again, and he swatted her away. She sat back on her heels, clearly annoyed.

"Fuck's sake, Malfoy. I'd have thought you'd be well up for this." She scowled at him through long lashes.

"You're not going to make me change my mind by pouting, Rose." He smiled at her in what he thought was a playful manner, but she seemed in no mood for banter and charged straight ahead to anger, rocking back to sit on her heels and folding her arms.

"I could have found somebody else tonight, you know, but I thought you'd jump at a chance for what you've _dreamed_ about all these years." She stumbled over her words, but the message was clear enough.

He turned to her, his face a mask of impassivity.

"I don't know whatever you could mean." he said stiffly.

She smirked, clearly pleased at having touched a nerve.

"Oh, don't pretend you aren't constantly glaring daggers at any guy who tries to approach me, Malfoy," she accused, her eyes flashing with danger. He looked on at her, stunned into silence. "It's a bit pathetic, really. We've kissed like, _twice,_ it's not like you own me, so _move on."_

 _"_ I don't know about that, Rose," he replied, feeling his throat constrict but fighting the sensation. "It seems to me that just about everybody owns a bit of you."

She drew a raspy breath, her nostrils flaring with anger as she glared daggers at him.

"You're an asshole," she accused, her words like ice. She grabbed her wand from the bedside table, and for one terrifying moment Scorpius thought she might hex him, but instead she wound it into her hair for safekeeping. The straightening charms were beginning to wear off, giving her a frizzy halo as the light from the hall backlit her retreating form.

It took all of his strength to smirk back at her and ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. "If you say so," he replied as nonchalantly as possible, as she stormed out and his heart went up in flames.

* * *

The fate of Gregory Goyle was meant to be confidential, so, of course, the news had been leaked within the Ministry within days. However, by the end of the week, the Wizarding world was more or less over the shock that the Goyle case had caused. There was little sympathy to be found in the press that covered the tragedy - after all, this was a former Voldemort sympathiser whose social life had been all but extinct for the last twenty years. When asked to comment on the event, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger-Weasley was diplomatic and succinct. "The fate of the victim is a terrible tragedy, and we continue to work to find the person responsible." She declined to give further comment when a reporter asked about her strained relationship with Goyle whilst they'd been at school.

Things eventually went, for the most part, back to normal. Scorpius, at least, noticed no real change in the way he spent his days. He got up in the mornings before Albus, went for a run, read the Daily Prophet over a steaming mug of tea, went to work and subsequently came home again. By Friday, there had been the thrilling news of the Wimbourne Wasps pulling ahead of the Falmouth Falcons in the Quidditch league tables, and all thoughts of the attack had diminished.

Friday afternoon came in glorious and bright splendour, uncommonly warm for late September in England. Scorpius had discarded his thick robes and rolled up his sleeves by midday, when the sun streamed through the patterned window panes onto his desk. He was working on a particularly tricky rune translation, and found himself uncharacteristically stumped. The rune in question was one the company's excavation team had brought in from a recent trip to America. Though the colonies had much less in the way of ancient artefacts, the ones they'd found had been incredibly complex and unlike anything Scorpius had ever seen. They just didn't seem to follow the same patterns or rules he'd applied to the more ancient runes. Several hours passed while he pored through tome after tome, struggling to interpret the symbols before him.

Scorpius blinked slowly. He'd been staring at the same faded images of a series of small crescent moons carved into the leather binding of the old book he'd been studying for the last fifteen minutes, without comprehending any of what he was doing. He realised with a start that he had a small bit of drool dangling at the corner of his mouth where it'd been hanging limply open, and wiped it hastily with the back of his hand, hoping nobody had seen.

Not that there were many people around. It was half four on a Friday, and his colleagues had one-by-one been making their excuses to get away for the weekend. Looking around, he realised only Aubrey, who sat in the corner and had been with the department for near to fifty years, was left. Rubbing his tired eyes, Scorpius stood and walked over to the elder translator.

"Bert?" he asked, his voice croaking from lack of use. Bertram Aubrey looked up, shocked from his reverie. He squinted up at Scorpius with his thick coke-bottle glasses, looking irritated at being distracted from the scrolls he'd been poring over.

"Erm -" Scorpius began, thoroughly intimidated by the old man. "I've come across a rune I've never seen before - one the team picked up on their recent trip to Boston, I believe. You wouldn't have any idea what this is, would you?" He delicately handed the tome over to Aubrey so that he could read the markings.

After a beat of silence, Bertram cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm not sure what it is," he admitted, frowning, "But I've got a feeling I've seen it somewhere before... if only I could remember where..." he trailed off, flipping through an ancient textbook of runes he had on his desk. Scorpius could see several complicated-looking, very old and faded marks upon the page Aubrey had flipped to and was running one short, stubby finger over. Scorpius waited for several moments in silence before he realized Aubrey was unlikely to address him again. He checked his watch, biting his lip as he looked around at the otherwise empty office.

"You can keep that for a while, if you'd like," Scorpius offered, and the old man's eyes lit up with the suggestion. "I've got plenty of other artefacts to work with from the Egypt dig." Aubrey nodded once, already tuning Scorpius out as he read from a passage in his textbook.

Smiling to himself, Scorpius gathered his rucksack and waved a goodbye to Bertram, who ignored him still, before he headed outside to greet muggle London. It was a warm late September's evening, so he opted to walk the mile and a half home to his flat rather than apparate. Stolling along the banks of the Thames, he felt rather happy and carefree. When he approached the intersection of Diagon Alley and Dillyd Alley, where he lived with Albus, he was surprised to hear somebody calling his name from the pub opposite.

"Oi, Malfoy!"

He turned, instantly recognizing the voice. Sure enough, Rhys Selwyn sat outside the pub across the street with two other boys who'd been the year above them in Slytherin House. Rhys waved Scorpius over, and the blond reluctantly approached the table.

"Selwyn," he said, looking down at the boys where they sat at their table, nursing several pints of beer. "Bowker, Fitzgerald." He nodded at Craig Bowker, who smirked back at him, and Eoin Fitzgerald, who was puffing on his muggle cigarette like a chimney.

"How've you been, Malfoy? It's been a while," Selwyn said, looking up at Scorpius with a genuine smile. He pulled out the chair next to him, and Scorpius took a seat, not necessarily comfortable with the situation, but knowing it'd be rude not to.

"I'm all right, you?" he replied hesitantly. He and Rhys had never been particularly friendly at school. Then again, they'd never been enemies per se, but the two boys had shared a dorm room for seven years and yet he barely knew the bloke.

"Yeah, good, mate," Rhys replied, still smiling. "Made the reserves for the Pride of Portree this year, so can't complain, really."

"You still living with Potter?" Eoin asked Scorpius, blowing thick cigarette smoke into the air. Scorpius struggled to keep his face straight and not wrinkle his nose in distaste. He hated the smell of cigarette smoke, and never allowed Al to smoke in the house. Instead of opening his mouth to reply, he nodded at Eoin, while surreptitiously holding his breath.

Selwyn nodded back at him. "Potter's all right," he said, as if benevolently giving his stamp of approval. Scorpius fought not to roll his eyes.

Eoin snorted, and lifted one eyebrow at Rhys. "You're just trying to get in Potter's good books cause you're shagging his cousin," he informed Selwyn smugly.

"Which cousin is that?" Craig's thick brogue was laced with a practised air of boredom as he looked at Rhys. "There are more Weasleys than you can keep track of."

Scorpius felt his blood run cold before anybody even said her name.

"Rose Granger-Weasley," Eoin informed his friend, smirking. "Good catch too, mate, she's easily the fittest of the lot." Scorpius was breathing through his nostrils now, very slowly.

Selwyn laughed, rubbing his hands through his thick, dark hair. _The prick._ "It's not anything serious," he said, raising his eyebrows at his friends, "she's just a good lay."

"That's surprising," Craig said, swigging his pint, "considering she was with Toby Kirke all through school. Can't have learned much from tha' wee Ravenclaw ponce."

Selwyn winked at his friend. "Don't worry, I've taught her a few things," he reassured them.

Scorpius quickly scooted back in his chair and stood, all in one swift movement. He stuck out a hand to steady the chair from wobbling over on the uneven cobbled street. "I've just remembered I'm late for... I've got to go," he said, clenching and unclenching one white-knuckled fist behind his back. "It was nice seeing you," he added quickly - because his mother had raised him to have impeccable manners - and walked away as quickly as he could without running.

Well, there was his nice evening ruined.

* * *

Though Albus had insisted Scorpius go out with him - " _It's a Friday night, mate!" -_ Scorpius couldn't be bothered after the run-in with Selwyn. The memory of Rose in his bedroom was fresh on his mind, as was the sting of her rejection. He really didn't fancy running into the redhead while out with her cousin, especially as he'd so carefully omitted any details involving Rose when Al had asked how his night'd gone.

It was for this reason that he found himself rather dubiously knocking at the front door of his old family home. Malfoy Manor was nowhere as austere-looking as it'd been during the last war - Scorpius had seen pictures. When his mother was alive, she'd dedicated much of her time to livening the place up a bit, and renovating it into a grand old estate. However, it still retained a sense of grandeur that unnerved Scorpius. He glanced over his shoulder, spying the last remaining albino peacock in the distance. Those birds had always freaked him out.

"Master Malfoy!"

Pipsy, his father's matronly - and handsomely paid - house-elf greeted him at the door, her little hands tugging him inside when she saw him. Her eyes were large and luminous in the darkness of the falling dusk, but with a snap of her long fingers, the torches in the entrance hall lit, the flames crackling merrily in their wrought-iron casements.

"How are you doing, Pipsy?" Scorpius asked kindly, having always had a soft spot for the elf who had practically raised him.

"Oh, Master Scorpius," she said, her round eyes wide as she shook her head sadly up at him, "Pipsy is worried about the elder Master Malfoy," her voice lowered to a hush, as if scared that Draco may pop out of the shadows and hear her.

"My father?" Scorpius asked, "What's wrong with him?"

Pipsy just shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. Alarmed, Scorpius took off in the direction of the study.

For the second time in as many weeks, Scorpius Malfoy barged into his father's study without knocking. This time, however, Draco barely glanced at his son.

"Dad?" Scorpius asked, stopping cold at the sight of his father in a high-backed chair before the fire, a large neat firewhiskey in his hand. Scorpius came to sit in the chair opposite him, watching the way the dancing flames illuminated Draco's pale, drawn face. "Are you - are you all right?"

Draco sighed, running one long-fingered hand over his temples, and finally looked at his son. There was a sadness in his eyes that Scorpius usually did not see. His father was so good at wearing a mask that even Scorpius too forgot that Draco Malfoy had feelings beyond what he presented to society.

"We need to leave England," was all he said, his voice hard and cold as he took a large swig of the firewhiskey, biting back the sting of the drink.

"Leave?" Scorpius' jaw dropped as he looked at his father. "Whatever for?"

The sadness in Draco's eyes turned to steely resolve as he stared at his son, his spitting image. "The attack on...on Greg, it's not an accident. Somebody must be - surely they're hunting down ex-Death Eaters on some sort of revenge mission." Scorpius sat in shock, staring at his father as if he'd never truly seen him before. Draco carried on, running his hands through his thinning hair frustratedly. "Goyle was lucky, he didn't have any family to lose, but I… your mother would've killed me if I placed you in harm's way."

For one horrifying moment, Scorpius thought his father might cry, but then he composed himself, ever the aristocratic gentleman.

"Father…" Scorpius tried and failed to come up with the words to comfort the older man. Instead, as he often did, he settled for logic.

"It's been years since the war, and Gregory Goyle has made just as many enemies in back-alley trade deals since the war as he did during it. You've said that yourself." Scorpius' words were even and measured, his eyes scanning his father's face for a reaction. Draco seemed to take them in, his face softening slightly.

"He was my friend," he said suddenly, weakly, looking at his son as if not properly seeing him.

Scorpius said nothing, just watched, still as he could be. He felt rather as if he were trying not to spook a skittish animal.

Draco continued, grimacing. "I know I haven't been close with Greg in the last few years, but he was one of the only ones who knew what it felt like to..." he trailed off, but Scorpius could guess where his father was going with the statement. Gregory Goyle had been ostracised from society as a former supporter of the Dark Lord in the Second Wizarding War. Though he had renounced their old allegiances, an act that'd kept him from Azkaban, he continued to be somewhat of a social pariah due to his murky history.

Much like his father.

Scorpius struggled to think of something comforting to say, and failed to come up with anything of merit. In truth, his father had tried to protect him from knowing too much of his past. Especially after Scorpius' mother had died and the horrible rumours about his parenthood surfaced, Draco seemed determined to raise his son purely in the light. He'd read every book in the Hogwarts library on the war, of course, and he knew the facts and figures, but it wasn't often his father opened up about things like this. It just wasn't done.

His father seemed to have a similar train of thought, because he straightened suddenly, seeming to snap out of his reverie.

"I'm sorry, son," he said, his face smoothing over into the cool, detached mask Scorpius knew so well. "I've had a momentary lapse of judgement." The facade was back in place, his accent smooth and unaffected. Scorpius wondered how he managed it. "How was your evening with Miss Moreau the other night?"

Scorpius could hardly remember. "Fine," he said quickly, "it was fine. Are you- are you sure you're all right?"

"Of course I am," his father replied with just a trace of bitterness. "I'm a Malfoy, aren't I?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

 **Rose**

* * *

"Well you're not going to leave England, are you?" Albus was saying rather loudly.

The poky little pub was crowded, but not so much that Rose couldn't have found another seat. There was a nice little secluded table over by the wizard with a purple top hat in the corner who was smoking the most curiously orange-hued rings out of his crooked pipe, and Rose itched to sit alone at it. However, she'd decided to make a conscious effort to be nicer to her cousin. Al was a good sort, if you could see past the broodiness and blatant daddy issues. He was somebody that, for all of his faults, Rose vowed she'd try harder to get along with, so she made her way to the table, intent on her new mission.

"No, of course not, mate. I think he'd just gone a bit mental for a moment." That was Scorpius' voice, Rose realized belatedly. She should have known. She never would have approached if she'd known _he'd_ be here with her cousin.

Rose made to turn back, but Albus had spotted her. "Rosie!" he called, his voice ringing out across the pub. Rose panicked slightly. Oh Merlin, it had been a mistake to approach their table - she'd had the quite lovely idea of spending a solitary afternoon with a butter beer and the care-worn book she had stuffed into her bag, but she'd seen the back of Al's messy dark head and had impulsively decided to join him. Sensing she now had no escape, or at least not one that'd result in a very awkward conversation afterwards, she approached the table, rubbing her thumb against the rim of her butterbeer glass nervously.

There was a brief moment where the cousins realised this was the first time they'd seen each other since Albus' outburst at their Nan's several weeks before.

"Look, Rose, I'm sorry about-"

"I wanted to apologize for-"

They both paused and giggled awkwardly. "Go on," Rose said, smirking at him and crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry I went off at you in front of everyone," Albus said in one breath. He fiddled with a cocktail napkin, not quite meeting her eye. "I'm worried about you, but that wasn't the best way to address it."

"I'm sorry too," Rose replied, looking relieved. "I know you were just looking out for me," She gave a weak smile. "Besides, you were right, I am a bit miserable, and I _hate_ my job."

Albus rolled his eyes at her, though his face seemed to soften. "Doesn't everybody?" he muttered sarcastically. "Except for this absolute swot here," he nudged his friend, who sat stock still. "Budge up for Rosie, mate."

Rose perched at the end of the bench, her eyes nervously darting over to Scorpius. So, he hadn't told Albus about that night. There was no doubt, or her cousin would've been glaring daggers at her by now. Blood may be thicker than water, but nobody came between Albus and his best friend.

If Al sensed any awkwardness between the two, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he prattled on about his job at the herbology lab for a good several minutes, telling some particularly dull anecdote or another. It was only when he cheerfully made his way up to the counter to get the next round of drinks that Scorpius even spoke at all.

"Could you get up for a moment?" he said, not properly looking at her. "Only, you're sat on the hem of my robes and it's pinning me down."

"Oh, sorry," Rose said, her cheeks flaming as she lifted her bum from the seat so he could free his trapped article of clothing.

They sat in silence for a few seconds further.

"Look, Scorpius," Rose tried, "I just wanted to say that I'm-"

He raised one eyebrow at her, expectantly.

"Butterbeers all around!" Albus said cheerily, returning to his seat with a heavy _thud._ "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing." The two answered, avoiding each others' glance.

"Brilliant," Albus said, nodding. "So what was I saying about the puffapods? Oh, right…"

The door to the pub opened swiftly, letting in the first hint of Autumn's cool breezes, come late this year. Rose was once again distracted from her cousin's story when she noticed Scorpius fidgeting beside her, shooting Al warning glances that her cousin subsequently ignored as he prattled on.

Rose twisted in her seat to see what had caught the blond's attention so fully, and came face to face with a pair of startlingly blue eyes.

" _Bonjour_! Well isn't this just _bonne chance_ to find you here!" A very pretty blonde girl sat down on Albus' side of the booth, her smiling beatifically at Scorpius. She noticed Albus to her left and her smile seemed to falter for a just moment, but was back in place by the time Rose blinked. Nobody at the table said anything in response. Rose noticed the boys were too busy having a silent conversation with their eyes.

"Scorpius," the girl frowned, her bottom lip jutting out somewhat adorably, "aren't you going to introduce me to _tes amis_?"

Without waiting for Malfoy's interjection, she stuck one impeccably manicured hand in Rose's face. "Eloise Moreau," she said, smiling genuinely at the redheaded girl.

Albus seemed to find his voice finally. "That's Rose Granger-Weasley," he said, a strangely hard edge to his tone. "And I'm her cousin, Albus Potter. I'm sure we've been acquainted before."

Eloise turned her piercing gaze to Albus, one eyebrow arched elegantly. "You know, I think we have," she replied, a bemused smile gracing her features.

Al turned the most curious shade of pink.

"Did my father send you?" Scorpius finally said, his voice cutting through the group, louder than necessary for the enclosed booth they all sat in. Rose jumped, startled by his sudden interjection.

Eloise laughed, a tinkling sound. "Whatever would give you that impression?" She asked.

"Excuse me," Scorpius said suddenly, pushing himself out of his seat and heading for the toilets. Rose watched his blond head disappear into the corridor, and turned back to her two companions, eyes wide. Surprisingly, neither of the others seemed shocked in the least. She had the distinct inkling that she was missing a piece of the puzzle, and realized she didn't care for the feeling.

Eloise sighed and lifted herself out of the booth as well. "No, I've got this," she told Al when he made to follow the pair of them.

As soon as the two blondes were gone, Rose leaned over to her cousin. "Who is that?" She hissed, glancing over at the pair of them as they spoke across the room. Scorpius was gesturing wildly as Eloise looked pleasantly unflappable, one hand coming to rest on Scorpius' arm, halting his jerky movements.

"Ahhh that's, erm -" Albus' face scrunched up. Rose pinched him and he let out a little yelp, rubbing his arm.

"Spit it out, Potter," She deadpanned.

He glared at her. "Technicallllllly," he said, dragging out the word in a way that made Rose grit her teeth in frustration, "she's Scorp's fiancé."

Rose blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't that. His _fiancé?_ She'd never noticed Malfoy dating at all, let alone… Oh _Merlin,_ was this why he'd refused to sleep with her the other night? Rose's cheeks burned with the memory. It was was humiliating enough she'd thrown herself at Scorpius Malfoy at all, let alone an _engaged_ Scorpius Malfoy. She flushed even deeper when she noticed her cousin was watching her curiously. He seemed on the verge of asking what was sure to be an inappropriately invasive question when he was sidetracked by another arrival.

The happy couple had returned. Scorpius was staring at his feet, looking rather sheepish. Eloise looked, well, annoyingly radiant.

Rose eyed up the other woman. By Godric, but she was pretty. There was an aristocratic air to her demeanor that couldn't be learned, her robes impeccably tailored in a way that reeked of old money. Rose suddenly felt rather shabby in her old threadbare and much-loved Gryffindor jumper. She ran one hand through her sproingy red curls self-consciously as she noted how Eloise's blonde hair swept over her shoulder, effortlessly glossy. Insecurity washed over her like a wave.

The couple sat down, looking irritatingly Aryan and attractive and - _ugh._

"I've just realised, I can't stay." Rose was up like a shot before she'd even realized she had spoken. Al looked up at her, his eyes wide.

"But you've only just gotten here," he said.

"Yeah, but I forgot I meant to… have to meet my mum," She lied, rather unconvincingly. Her cheeks burned and she refused to look at Scorpius at all. She could see him frowning at her in the periphery, staring at her as if she were a puzzle he were trying to solve.

She'd spent enough time in his company to know he was rather good at puzzles. It wasn't a risk she was willing to take.

Mustering up a cheerful little wave to her cousin, Rose exited the way she'd come, out of the pub and into the crisp Autumn air.

* * *

Though she'd lied to her cousin the other day about having plans with her mum, Rose figured she was about due a date with the older witch.

That, and she couldn't spend another minute in her office with Anderson griping about his mother-in-law and the ever-simpering Cassandra, or she'd most likely implode.

"I've been thinking about what Albus said the other day," Hermione confessed, after their orders had been taken and the cursory pleasantries exchanged. She folded her thin hands on the tabletop and scrutinized her daughter with exacting brown eyes. They paused in the conversation and smiled at the witch who came over to fill their glasses of water with her wand. They both pretended not to notice how the girl's eyes lingered on Hermione, and how she nervously spilled a bit of the liquid onto the table with an exceptionally unnecessary flourish of her wand. People generally making fools of themselves was a fairly common occurrence when going out in public with either of Rose's parents.

"Oh?" Rose said when she'd left, knowing nothing good would follow. "Which bit was that?" She tried and failed to sound casual, her voice cracking a bit just at the end.

"About you not liking your role within the Department of Magical Education," her mother plowed on, seemingly unaware of Rose's discomfort. "I hope you don't mind, but I had a bit of a discussion with your boss about how best to utelise your skills at work."

Rose nearly spat out her water. "Tell me you're kidding," she pleaded.

Hermione frowned. "Of course not," she told her daughter. "Why would I kid about something like this?"

" _Mum,"_ Rose whinged, her blue eyes as round as saucers, "you had no right to speak to my boss about my role."

"I think you'll find I have every right," Hermione countered. Rose shook her head, sighing deeply, knowing there was no use arguing with her mother. "You're my daughter and I want the best for you." She sat back, sipping her water and looking rather pleased with herself. "And anyway, that lovely woman Cassandra was very helpful, and told me she would personally mentor you on any new and exciting projects the department is handed."

Rose breathed through her nose, slowly, willing herself not to lose her shit at her mother. _She's only doing what she thinks is best_ , she reminded herself. However, the idea of hours spent in close company with Cassandra's grating, simpering voice made Rose's blood boil.

"How's dad?" She asked, desperate for a subject change. Instantly, her mother's bright smile darkened, though it was plastered back in an instant. Rose hated when her mother pulled this polished politician act with her.

"He's all right," Hermione said slowly, smoothing her hair back in what Rose knew was her nervous tic. A small wrinkle appeared between her brows.

"Still working with the Aurors?" Rose couldn't help but pry.

"Yes," she replied, her brown eyes flickering up to her daughter's blue ones. Her voice lowered to just above a whisper, "They're working day and night to find who's responsible for the Goyle case."

"Why are they spending so much time on a one-off attack on an old Death Eater?" Rose wanted to know, taking a large bite of her lunch, which had just arrived with the waitress.

Her mother pursed her lips, and Rose sat up with rapt attention, her lasagne forgotten. What was going on?

"There's been another attack," her mother said, her voice lowered so that Rose had to lean in slightly to hear.

"Another one? On who?"

Hermione looked as if she were about to speak, but the waitress was back again, checking that their meals were all right. Rose waved her off, saying that her barely-touched plate was delicious. She focused back in on her mother, but was disappointed to see that she'd seemed to pull herself to her senses during the momentary distraction.

"I've said too much as it is. Top secret information, as I'm sure you know. All under control, of course." Her mother tutted, a tic going in her cheek. "How's your lunch?"

* * *

It turned out, in the end, that Rose needn't have pressed her mother for details at all. By the time Rose had arrived back at the Ministry, all veritable hell had broken loose.

"What's going on?" She hissed to Portia, who was sitting at her desk, her big brown eyes staring at the memos that were zooming around the room. The other woman blinked slowly, as if unaware that Rose had spoken.

"The Goyle case," she said, her mouth turning into a frown as she turned her gaze to her friend. "There's been another attack."

Portia pushed a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ over to Rose, who snatched it up immediately and began to read.

 _MYSTERIOUS FORCES LAY ATTACK ON WIZARDING BRITIAN, RIGHT UNDER AURORS' NOSES_

Though the news didn't come as a surprise, Rose couldn't help but draw a deep, steadying breath at the bold black letters on the front page. There was a picture accompanying the article, and she watched as a small animated photograph of her Uncle Harry pushed his way through a horde of reporters and flashing cameras. She skimmed the text, her hands shaking as she held the page.

 _Potter and the Ministry continue to keep the matter under wraps, despite increasing tension among the community,_ the article quoted halfway down the page. " _We have a right to know what's going on!" Concerned citizen Marietta Edgcombe told The Prophet today. "How can we protect ourselves from something we know nothing about?" Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger-Weasley was unavailable for comment, choosing instead to spend a lengthy lunch at The Hopping Pot with her only daughter, Rose Granger-Weasley._

" _Fuck."_ Rose breathed through her nose sharply.

"Rose?" Came a simpering voice to the left, "Where are the third year Arithmancy curriculum notes I asked for this morning?"

Rose's eyes continued to scan the article, spotting a picture of her mother, looking frazzled as she blinked up into the camera's light, clearly caught by surprise by whoever had taken the picture. Was this taken just after she'd left her? How had The Prophet circulated this so quickly?

"When did the post come?" She asked Portia.

"Rose? The reports?" Cassandra's face came into view, her lips in a plastic, fake smile, lips almost grotesquely parted over gritted teeth.

"I'll have them done in just a minute, Cassandra," she said, returning the smile, her cheek muscles tight. She turned back to Portia, who was blinking rather rapidly, head swiveling between the two of them.

Cassandra's voice only got louder. "Don't you think your job takes precedence over whatever little family issues you're having?" Her voice was reedy and patronizing, and Rose could feel her blood start to boil. "Do you think that just because you happen to be the Minister's daughter, that gives you a free pass to-"

"Oh, _fuck off!_ " It took Rose a moment to realize the outburst had indeed come from her own mouth. There was a horrible silence as Cassandra's face went purple and she spluttered a bit. Rose seized the opportunity, grabbing her bag and her coat from where they had been removed only minutes ago, and heading towards the door. The newspaper was still gripped tightly in one hand.

"Do your own reports, Cassandra," she said, her voice surprisingly steady, "I quit."

She turned to go, adding to Portia quickly "floo me later." Rose walked out of the office, adrenaline pumping and her heart thrumming in her ears.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I've edited this about a million times, and it's still not quite right. Ah, well. Please enjoy. Next update should come more quickly.**

 **Disclaimer: All belongs to JKR.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

 **Scorpius**

* * *

The office was a mess. It was clear that Bert had been working late, as he was wont to do. This was not out of the ordinary. What _was_ shocking to Scorpius were the multitude of loose leaf papers scattered about the room, and the long streaks of blood trailing across several desks. Bert's blood, the Aurors had already determined. He had put up one hell of a fight.

There were several scorch marks around the room, which Scorpius'd overheard the Aurors talking about. They'd examined Aubrey's wand for previous spells cast, and the brilliant old man had defended himself valiantly. Scorpius officiously rubbed at one such mark on the wall behind him, wrinkling his nose at the smell of scorched metal where the spell had hit the lantern that hung upon the wall. When he noticed one of the investigative wizards frowning at him, he quickly removed his hand from the burnt material and averted his eyes.

Scorpius slowly sipped one of the teas he'd gone out and fetched for the office, just to have something to do as the Aurors persisted in their investigation. He'd already been subjected to a round of interrogation when he'd shown up for work by a particularly gruff Auror called Robertson. He wryly wondered if anyone bat a eyelid if he just turned and went home, but he wanted to be here in case there were any further questions that needed answering. That, and he was perversely curious about the whole thing.

Bertram Aubrey was not a controversial sort of bloke. As far as Scorpius knew, he mostly kept himself to himself. He had no partner, no children, no immediate family that he had ever spoken of. The only thing Scorpius knew was that the man loved his work.

As evidence of Bert's intense dedication to his job, there were his books and various notepads, still open on the cluttered desk. Curiously, they seemed to have been left largely untouched in the scuffle. Scorpius could see from across the room that the book he'd lent Aubrey with the American runes was face down on top of a large stack of papers.

"I think we're just about done here," a tall ginger Auror had emerged from the next room and was speaking to Hawkins, Scorpius' boss. The man turned so that his profile was in view, and Scorpius realised with a start that it was none other than Ron Weasley. All in all, he didn't mind Ron. The older man'd always been kind enough to him when he'd attended various Potter-Weasley functions with Albus, and there was no denying he had a good sense of humour. Merlin, was he a large bloke though. Though he himself was taller than the average wizard, Scorpius was willing to bet Weasley had several centimetres on himself. Not only this, but he had a presence about him that couldn't be ignored. Perhaps it came with being a celebrated war hero, but there was no escaping notice that every other Auror in the room stood at rapt attention the moment he entered the room. He had an easy dominance over others, a trait that the Slytherin in Scorpius noted and envied.

Weasley continued in his booming baritone, "There's not much more we can do without getting somebody from the DoM down here, and they're not the easiest to pin down without advance notice."

Hawkins, a short and rather portly man with a ruddy face raised his eyebrows, looking like a caricature of himself in his indigation. "Why's the Department of Mysteries involved?" He demanded. "This is a place of work, we must be allowed to do so."

Me. Weasley fixed him with a hard stare. "One of your employees was attacked on work premises," he said flatly, indicating no room for argument. "We need to conduct a thorough investigation before determining that it is a safe environment for your staff."

He turned at this and caught the eye of Scorpius, who quickly pretended not to be listening.

"Malfoy!" Weasley called, and Scorpius quickly slid off from his perch on an abandoned desk in the corner. Ron's eyes were intensely blue, just like his daughter's. The older man's gaze softened, just a fraction, as he regarded Al's best mate. "Get yourself home for the day," he said. "We'll send an owl if there are any changes you should know about." He turned away, then doubled back again. "Oh, and Malfoy? When you see that scrawny nephew of mine, tell him I'm still waiting for his owl about dinner Thursday night."

Scorpius nodded, smiling quickly at him, then turned to gather his things. He was all set to go when he turned back impulsively. Perhaps it was the dread of catching up on several lost hours of work, or perhaps it was pure masochism, but as Weasley called the aurors into the back room, Scorpius quickly sidled over to Aubrey's desk and grabbed the book of runes from Boston. He shoved it in his bag and walked out.

* * *

Scorpius had fully intended on heading home, putting his feet up and reading a good, long mystery novel to take full advantage of his time off of work. He was no more than five minutes into his trek back to Dillyd Alley, however, when he thought of Bert, all alone in the hospital, his mind completely wiped blank. Before he had even fleshed out a proper plan, he was turning on his heel and apparating to the hospital.

St. Mungo's had always freaked him out. Ever since his mother's death, he'd avoided the hospital like the plague. The building was too white, too clinical, and by contrast the lime green healers' robes always had given him a headache. He still remembered the day his mother had passed in minute detail, her failing body looking small and frail on the large hospital bed as blurs of lime green rushed around her, several magical machines whirring by the bedside, all unsuccessful in their key purpose - to keep Scorpius' mum alive. His Aunt Daphne had finally ushered him from the room and sent him back to the big, cold, empty mansion in the countryside. He'd spent hours crying to his house elf, Pipsy, while she'd lovingly pet his hair.

Now, however, he strode into the lobby with purpose, determined not to dwell on unhappy past memories of the place. There was that same smell of magic and cleaning potions in the air, mingling with a slightly acrid scent that Scorpius couldn't quite put his finger on. This alone made him pause in his mission. Merlin, he hated this place.

He skirted the reception witch by saying he was visiting a family friend in the spells damage ward (he'd heard Mr. Potter once talk about an old Professor named Lockhart and had filed that information away for later use), but once he'd reached the ward, he abruptly turned at the end of the corridor when he was meant to carry on. He bypassed a sign that warned visitors there was no public access any further, and found himself in an empty hall. Feeling rather foolish, Scorpius hid in a small alcove, and finally stopped to breathe.

What was he doing here? He wasn't entirely sure he could answer that question himself. Only, he'd had a clear intent upon arriving at the hospital. Find Bert. Find out what happened to him. In a strange way, he felt almost responsible for the old man who had no family. He'd left him alone in the office last night, said his usual goodbyes and left without making sure his colleague would get home safely. A cold wave washed over him as he realised he'd likely been the last to see Bert before the attack. The trouble was, he had no idea where in this maze of a building to find him.

Scorpius peered around the corner and into the hallway. A rather drab row of doorways lined the wall opposite him, all closed. There was a portrait of a rather stern looking witch on the wall between two of the doors, but she was sleeping and reminded him far too much of his old Professor McGonagall for his comfort. He surely couldn't ask her for directions. Why hadn't he thought this through? How was he meant to find Bert in this labyrinth?

He was ready to set off in one direction or the other when he heard somebody approaching. Scorpius pressed himself against the wall, knowing that he'd be escorted back to the public visiting areas should he be caught. Footsteps were clicking rapidly along the hall now, two pairs of feet with accompanying low murmurs. As they came closer, Scorpius strained to hear.

"-so awful to find him like that." One was saying, a woman's voice. "Irreparable spell damage, they're saying. He has no memories of who his is at all. No memories or traces of magic." Scorpius realised with a start that they must be speaking of Aubrey and his breath caught in his throat. He shouldn't have been surprised, to be fair. The attack on Goyle had shaken the community, and a second one would be much worried over.

"Merlin," whispered the other voice, a male's. "Do they know what they wanted with him?" The footsteps stopped just beyond where he was hidden in the alcove, and Scorpius leaned against the wall so far he thought he may sink into it. The voices continued.

"He's an old man, no family or enemies as far as we're aware. Goyle - he was affiliated with _You Know Who,_ so that makes sense, but Aubrey…" the woman's voice paused. "It's far more likely he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

The footsteps retreated down the hall, echoing in Scorpius' head. Why _had_ the attacker targeted an old man? Or had he? What if, like the healer said, he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Aubrey was simply in the way? With a shuddering breath, he realised it could have just as easily been himself in that room. His father's previous remarks about being a target simply due to his surname resurfaced suddenly, gripping his stomach so that it cramped and made Scorpius retch. What if Bert hadn't been the target at all? What if the target had been _him?_

Scorpius backed up against the the wall, his breathing coming fast and shallow. He gripped at the collar of his robes, yanking them free to expose his pale neck. That was slightly better. Concentrating on breathing slowly and evenly through his nostrils, he finally regulated himself back from his near-panic attack.

When he'd run his hands through his hair several times and told himself to pull it together, Scorpius left the alcove in the direction the healers had come from. It was eerily quiet down this end of the hospital, far from the busy wards with people coming and going. On one wall, he read " _Permanent Spell Damage - Bonham Research Ward"_ on a rather worn placard.

He tried the knobs on a couple of doors to no avail. Muttering a quick _Alohamora_ did the trick, and he quickly slipped inside a door at random. Glancing around quickly, he determined that Aubrey wasn't inside this one. In fact, this looked like an office, rather than a hospital room. The room was small and cramped with several large bookshelves and a desk that were far too large for its size. In one corner, there was a camp bed shoved up against a wall that was still rumpled from its last use. A cauldron sat steaming on a coal fire in its grate in the centre of the room, bubbling away with some dark and sticky-looking substance. Feeling strangely as if he'd intruded on somebody's personal space, Scorpius backed out of the room.

He was about to try another door when a voice in the hallway made him jump.

"Can I help you?" He turned to see a woman, so diminutive and slight it was no wonder she'd easily snuck up behind him without making a sound. Her mousy brown hair was rather unkempt, a wand wound into a top knot that was falling out of place. Her face was rather unremarkable save for a pair of eyes, so light-coloured they appeared translucent.

"Er- no.." Scorpius spluttered while she watched on with a frown. "That is, I was, erm, looking for my colleague? Bertram Aubrey?" Caught so off-guard, he hadn't the chance to come up with a viable lie. The woman flinched at Aubrey's name, her mouth thinning to a straight line.

"Mr. Aubrey is not accepting visitors at this time," she said. Her voice was surprisingly steely for someone so physically fragile, and he was surprised to hear she spoke in a bright and clear American accent. "You should not be here."

"Right," Scorpius said, feeling quite foolish for thinking he could just waltz into the highly guarded ward of the victim of an open case. "Of course. I'll just be going then." He smiled at the woman, who did not return it, and turned on his heel to head back the way he'd come. At the end of the hall, he glanced back to see the woman slip into the same office he'd just explored with a resolute _click_ of the lock.

* * *

The weather had taken a turn for the worse. Where a couple of weeks ago, summer lingered in the air, now London had officially and resolutely begun its descent into its long and grey winter. Though it was only mid afternoon, the sun had begun to creep past the tree line, and there was a still, thick blanket of fog in the air. Having no office to get back to, Scorpius walked leisurely along the south bank of the Thames, staring out at the dark water, wondering if he still had a job. Weasley has given no indication of when the Department of Mysteries would be our to clear the crime scene. Surely the Aurors' investigation would be over soon, they'd catch the attacker, and he could get back to work. They were dark wizard catchers, after all. This was what they were best at.

When he came to the next bridge, he crossed the water, heading up into the heart of London and Diagon Alley. The cobbled streets were almost quiet in the daytime, with most witches and wizards busy at work. He stopped to admire the owls at Eeylops for a moment, petting a large tawny through the bars until it snapped at his fingers with its beak. He'd only just bought a pumpkin juice and had decided to head back to his flat when a voice called him over from the pub on the corner.

"Malfoy! Oi - over here!"

It was Rose.

A rather _tipsy_ Rose, he realized, feeling as if he were experiencing some sort of déjà vu. He quickly glanced around, wondering if he could perhaps make an escape, but she'd already bounded up to him, a smile on her freckled face. She'd been outside the smoking, but threw away the muggle cigarette as she came over to him, the butt smoking between the cobblestones on the street. He threw his arms out impulsively as she reached him, expecting her to stumble as she was wont to do after a drink or two. Surprisingly, she was steady on her feet, grasping his outstretched arms and beaming up at him as though they'd never quarreled at all.

"Alright?" He managed to get out, wondering what her motive for speaking to him could possibly be.

"I quit my job," her statement came out rushed and breathless, as though she'd been waiting to tell him since the moment she saw him. "I quit my job and I'm never going back." She had a hard look in her blue, blue eyes.

"Oh, erm - congratulations?" He said, unsure.

"Thanks," she rewarded him with a splitting grin. "I'm really chuffed." She shook a tumble of curls out of her face and looked back towards the pub. "Why aren't you at work?" She asked frowning, glancing at his robes, probably finally clocking that it was mid-afternoon still.

"Oh, erm, your dad sent me home."

"My dad?" Her nose wrinkled adorably.

"Yeah - there was an… incident at work. Aurors are investigating." He replied, unsure of how much he was strictly allowed to say.

"Oh," she said, her voice small. She looked sad for a moment, but soon her vigor returned. She waved the air, as if physically vanishing the unpleasant circumstances that allowed Scorpius to be there. "But you're off work! Brilliant! Come and have a drink with me, then."

"Oh, I don't know-"

"Come on, Malfoy. I don't bite." She wriggled her eyebrows at him, already heading back towards the pub. "Not hard, at least." She laughed and winked over her shoulder.

Scorpius stayed where he was. When she realized he wasn't following, she turned, her freckled forehead creasing.

"You know, I'm all right," he said, though a part of him itched to join her in the pub, to lap up all the attention she seemed to be offering. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled from foot to foot. "I'll catch you later, Rose."

Before he could change his mind, Scorpius walked away from her. She said nothing in reply, and with an admirable display of self-control, he didn't turn back to watch her expression as he went. Had he done so, he might have laughed at the incredulous look on her face, for Rose Granger-Weasley stood in the middle of Diagon Alley, looking for all the world like Scorpius Malfoy had been the first man to ever turn her down.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

 **Rose**

* * *

There was a reason people went to work, Rose soon realised. After about two days, one hour, and seventeen minutes (but who was counting?) the adrenaline from quitting her job had finally worn off - as had the hangover - and she began to worry. She'd yet to hear from her mother, who admittedly had larger fish to fry in light of recent events, but Hugo had been quick to pay her a visit after her rather dramatic exit from the Ministry workforce.

"Seb told me that Portia said to him that you told your boss to go fuck herself," he said, stepping through the floo and into her flat without so much as a courtesy _hello._

"Sebastian Thomas has always been a wind up," was her only defense.

He shook his curly head, grinning at her in a way that reminded Rose of their father. "So it's true. You're impossible," he declared.

She huffed, crossing her arms. "You'd think my only brother would be happy for me, that I've finally chucked the job I hated."

"I _am_ happy for you," he insisted, flopping next to her on the couch and helping himself to a biscuit from the tin on the coffee table, "and frankly, it was decent timing. You're lucky that the papers are going mental over these memory wiping cases, or the press would have a field day. _Minister's Daughter Tells Manager to Do One,"_ he spoke the last line through a mouthful of crumbs, his hands spread wide as if outlining the headline. A stray bit of biscuit escaped from his mouth and hit Rose in the face.

Rose bit her cheek so that she'd keep a straight face. " _You_ can do one," she informed her little brother.

He just smiled at her, still chewing.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" She asked, changing tactics.

"Just popping 'round to see how my favourite sister is faring now she's unemployed," he answered, flicking his wand at the blinds so that they opened to let in the daylight. "Godric, it's dark in here. What are you doing, having a seance?"

"Yes," Rose answered, deadpan. "I'm trying to resurrect your respect for your elders."

"You'll probably find it in the same place as your dignity" he retorted, not missing a beat. Hugo had irritatingly inherited not only their mother's brains, but their dad's impressively strategic banter as well.

"Har har," she replied scathingly, because she had nothing clever to say. Rose made her way over to the kitchen island to pour herself a drink. "Want one?"

He wrinkled his nose at her. "It's only just gone two o'clock," he said, as if this were a some sort of deterrent. She scoffed and poured a second drink. He accepted it, wincing as he drank. "Fuck me, that's strong." He took another sip, gingerly, and settled back into the couch.

"Why are you really here?" She asked him, meeting his eyes. His were the brown of their mothers', soft and warm.

"I'm worried about you," he said simply, staring right back. She rolled her eyes.

"Why is everybody so worried about me?" She asked, exasperated. He just raised one dark red eyebrow at her.

"I was at a party with Elaine Kirke the other night," he said slowly, and Rose's blood ran cold. Toby's little sister, Elaine, had always been kind to her. But that had been before the break-up… she waited with bated breath for Hugo to continue. "She saw me and started mouthing off some shit about how you'd cheated on her brother."

Rose was on her feet in an instant. "I didn't - I never-" she spluttered, attempting to control herself. "I didn't, Hugo, you don't believe-"

"Of course I dont," he said, though he looked rather relieved. "She was drunk, and she was just spreading stupid rumours. And I told her as much, the lying bitch."

Rose sank back onto the couch, her side pressed to her brother's. One long arm went around her, and she allowed herself to be held for a moment, breathing in his earthy boyish scent.

"Thanks, Hugh," she said nuzzling his side. He chuckled and flicked her ear affectionately, though it still rather hurt.

"No problem, sis," he said.

* * *

The sun was already starting to set by the time she woke up. Its rays were streaming through the amber-coloured autumn leaves outside, casting an eerie sepia tone around the room. Rose checked her wristwatch, confused, and found it was nearly half five.

"I was wondering when you'd be up," came a voice to her left, and Rose started, banging her knee on the coffee table.

"Fuck's sake, Hugo," she said, throwing a cushion, which he caught easily. "I didn't know you were still here."

"Better than hanging 'round Mum and Dad's empty house all day," he replied jovially. "Even with you snoring."

"I don't snore," she retorted childishly.

"Hmmm," he shrugged, unconcerned. "What are you doing this evening?"

"Erm, nothing, why?" Somehow telling her little brother that she'd planned on cracking open a bottle of Ogden's Finest and ending up in Rhys Selwyn's bed seemed like a bad idea.

He tossed the cushion back to her. "I promised Louis I'd go to his gallery opening, if you're interested?" He mentioned it casually enough, but Rose knew him better than that. This was clearly a ploy to get her out of the house.

"I don't know…" she said slowly, shifting uncomfortably on the couch, hugging the pillow to her body. "Will everybody be there?"

"Just the cousins, I think." He said quickly.

Rose weighed her options, biting her lip.

"Come on, Ro," he said, giving her his best puppy dog look, reminding her of his younger self. "It'll be dead boring without you there."

She smiled in spite of herself. "It'll be dead boring even _with_ me there." She said, relenting.

The smile she got in return almost made the idea of a night out with her family worth it. "We'll have a good time," he promised.

* * *

Louis Weasley had spent much of his post-graduate years in France with his relatives, and clearly fancied himself some sort of Monet. His paintings were rather good, Rose thought, though she had no real talent herself for that sort of thing and therefore no standard to judge it by. Her cousin himself, however, had come back from France with a stupid little blond goatee and and dressed in a style she could only describe as homeless-chic. She supposed it had been fashionable in Montmartre, where he'd lived. Here in England he just looked like a twat.

While Hugo fetched her a drink, she studied a painting of a naked young woman, sprawled out on a settee with what looked like Cornish Pixies dancing around her. She wore a disturbingly come-hither look and kept winking at the men in the room as they passed by. Rose wondered if Louis painted from life, or if this was just a figment of his imagination. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that rather most of his paintings were of various naked females. It was probably a good thing her Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill were on holiday in Egypt for this particular gallery opening.

There were rather a lot of people here, though. Rose watched as witches and wizards she didn't know meandered around the room, viewing the paintings and sipping frothing, bubbling drinks. Several of these people looked like something out of her Witch Weekly magazines, fashionable in a careless way that Rose would bet took hours to perfect. She snorted into her hand as a woman walked around the room in nothing but a shimmering, sheer slip of a dress. Rose wouldn't be caught dead in something that blatantly revealing.

Somebody appeared at her elbow, and she turned, thinking it was Hugo with the drinks.

"Are you stalking me?" she asked grumpily when she saw who it was, focusing back on the portrait. The girl in the painting had sat up with rapt attention and was smiling at Scorpius next to her, blowing him kisses.

"Simmer down, I'm here with Albus." he said, smirking a little.

It rankled her nerves to admit she was still a bit put out from the last time she'd seen him. Yes, she'd been a bit drunk, and he really probably shouldn't like her at all anymore after her last spectacularly embarrassing performance. After all, she'd yelled some truly horrible things at him. But this was Scorpius Malfoy, the boy who'd fumbled over his words in front of her since they were eleven. He'd never turned her down before. In fact, if anything, he'd always leapt at the chance to be around her.

Perhaps those days were in the past, now.

It was a long moment before she realised she hadn't actually said anything in response to him. She was about to say just about anything to make polite conversation, when her cousin called him from across the room and he made to go.

"Wait," she said, grabbing his arm before she could complete her thought process. He looked curiously at her, and perhaps still a little annoyed.

"I'm sorry about the other night," Rose said, quickly, glancing around them to make sure nobody was listening. He tried to draw his arm away, rolling his eyes, and she held on firmly. "Malfoy… er, Scorpius, I'm serious." His eyes were boring into hers, his expression irritatingly unreadable, but he was staying put. She waffled for something to say. "I said a lot of stupid, horrible things, and… I suppose you're Al's best friend, so you're going to be around for a while, so it'd be helpful if we at least got on… and, well, the things I said to you - you didn't deserve any of it at all, and… I'm just sorry, okay?" She finished rather lamely.

He frowned at her, as if expecting more. Rose started to sweat nervously under his gaze.

"Fuck's sake, Malfoy, it's hard enough for me to apologise, so can you please just put me out of my misery and accept it?" She huffed.

He bit his lip gently, as if trying not to laugh.

"Are you winding me up?" She asked, suspiciously.

He let a short bark of laughter out, as if unable to hold it in any longer. It lit him up, transforming his face. There was a dimple in his cheek, she noticed. A tightness left her chest, feeling rather like relief.

"It's all right, Rose," he said, shaking his head, still smiling.

"You let me go on for a bit, didn't you?" She said grumpily, flushing.

He laughed, and then turned serious. "No, but I am glad you said something." His eyes were still boring into hers. Merlin, but they were an interesting silvery colour. It was a moment before she realised he was still speaking. "I'm sorry, too. That night was a stupid idea anyway, shouldn't have happened. I'm happy to forget it, just as long as it's never mentioned to Albus, yeah?" He winced at the last bit, as if unaccustomed to keeping secrets from his best mate. She supposed he probably was.

"Oh Godric, no," she said, smiling back. "Our little secret."

"Brilliant." He said, glancing over his shoulder. "Well, if you excuse me, I'm just going to -"

"Oh! Of course," Rose let go of his arm, feeling herself go red. She hadn't realised she'd still been gripping it. She winced at the red patches left by her fingers on his pale skin, just visible below his rolled-up shirtsleeves.

"Right," he smiled at her, not unkindly. "See you later, then."

"See you later." She said, but he'd already disappeared through the crowd.

She glanced around a bit, looking for anybody she might know, rubbing her arms from the cold of the room. For some strange reason, Louis had chosen to hold the event in an old derelict warehouse in the arse-end of London. Pompous prick.

"Hey, Ro." Her brother was back.

"Hey," She said, accepting the drink he offered her. "Long queue or something?" She glanced around at the bar.

"Got waylaid by Lou," he explained, grimacing. "Got the history of nearly every one of these lovely ladies. You'd never guess it - but _apparently_ he's slept with nearly all of them." He rolled his eyes.

"Shock." Rose replied, rolling hers back. Blame it on the Veela genes, but their cousin was known to be somewhat of a lothario, even with his newfound tramp chic look. She had just turned to another portrait of a rather well-endowed brunette doused entirely in what looked like essence of murtlap when another redhead appeared beside them. It was her cousin Lily.

"Hey Lil," she said, grinning cheekily, "guess how many of these girls Louis' slept with."

There was a beat where her cousin stared up at her, as if not really seeing her. There were fresh tear tracks on her pale face. "Where's Albus?" She finally asked, her brown eyes wide and fearful. Rose's smile slid right off her face.

"I don't know," she said, looking around at Hugo, whose face had gone white under his freckles. "What's wrong, Lily?"

"Go grab Al," she ordered Hugo, ignoring Rose's question and shaking slightly. "Quickly, please."

As Hugo disappeared into the crowd, Rose led Lily to a bench off to the side of the room.

"Lily, please talk to me," she said, bending down next to the younger girl, "You're scaring me." The other girl just shook her head, breathing raggedly.

Hugo had re-appeared with Albus, Malfoy trailing behind his mate as if unsure if he belonged there.

"Lil?" Albus said, leaning down next to his little sister with a gentleness Rose rarely saw from him. "Lily, tell us what happened."

Lily's voice was so soft when she spoke, it was all Rose could do to strain to hear her over the chatter in the room.

"I overheard mum on the floo just now. There's been another attack," she said, her voice trembling, looking up at Al with true fear in her eyes. "It's dad." Then she locked her gaze with Rose, "Our dad and Aunt Hermione."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Nothing belongs to me!**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

 **Scorpius**

* * *

Scorpius often felt out of place. It came from being the heir to one of the most defamed names in Wizarding history, and also just from being a generally awkward sort of bloke. He'd grown up all his life feeling like a burden - on his father after the death of his mother, on his friends, on society in general. It was why he strove to just blend into the background wherever possible.

None of this compared, however, with how out of place he felt among the Potters and the Weasleys in the hallway of the private ward of St. Mungos where Hermione Granger-Weasley and Harry Potter were being cared for.

After Lily Potter had shown up at the art gallery, things had moved rather quickly, and Scorpius unintentionally felt himself being shuffled along in the mix. When they'd apparated from the gallery warehouse to the visitor's entrance of St. Mungo's, he'd made to turn back and go home, but one look at Albus' shock-stricken face had silenced any protest he'd had. When they'd been ushered along a long hall by the medi-witch who'd intercepted them at the information desk, he'd wondered if he stood out at all - white blond in the mix of offspring that were very clearly Weasleys and Potters. To his utter surprise, nobody had questioned his presence. Perhaps nobody had noticed.

They'd been rushed to the private ward, but none of their party had been allowed into the rooms where the patients were being treated. They had no real information except what Lily'd overheard and relayed for them over and over again; that there had been an attack on the Ministry out of hours, and that Harry Potter and the Minister had been caught up in it. Other than the very nervous looking young medi-witch who'd shown them to the ward and offered them all cups of tea, they hadn't seen anybody else in the several hours they'd been waiting.

It must have been late now, he thought, checking his wristwatch for the time. It was now gone ten. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he'd forgotten to eat dinner before the exhibition.

Scorpius adjusted himself in the hard hospital chair, wondering how he'd managed to avoid the hospital for years, and somehow was now here twice in one week. This area of the building was much nicer than the one Bert was in - or his mother had been, for that matter. It was set aside from the public eye, for one thing, and there were the illusions of windows along the wall, though Scorpius doubted very much that they showed the true outside sky. For one thing, you could see stars twinkling through the dark night here - outside, the Central London smog would be too thick. Still, it created a nice effect. He supposed something good came from being the most famous Wizarding family in England.

He glanced around the hallway, where his companions were in various states of disarray. Lily had finally ceased crying about an hour ago, and was now sleeping on Albus' shoulder, her face puffy and pink as Albus stroked her hair tenderly. Scorpius looked away from this, allowing his best mate a private moment with his little sister. Hugo had paced around for ages when they'd arrived, but was now sitting on the floor of the corridor, drumming his fingers absently on the wall behind him with nervous energy as he stared in the opposite direction. Somebody had thought to owl James, who had been out with mates and half drunk by the time they'd found him, and was now nursing what looked to be coffee laced with something like firewhiskey. And Rose - Rose hadn't said a word since she'd learned about her mother and uncle, and was staring blankly ahead with no expression whatsoever, as if she'd been Kissed by a dementor and there was nothing of her left. For a girl who usually sparked with life and vivacity, it was rather terrifying to see her so seemingly empty.

The silence seemed to stretch on for ages.

"Think I'll go make another round of tea," Scorpius muttered aloud, when he couldn't bear the stifling quiet anymore. He rose from his chair, meeting Albus' eyes. His friend smiled half a smile at him, and suddenly Scorpius didn't feel quite so awkward about being there anymore. If Al needed him, he would stay.

He was just about to head towards the double door on the end of the hallway when a tall ginger man burst through it.

"Where are they?" Ron Weasley demanded, startling the medi-witch who was quietly doing paperwork at the desk beside them. She blanched, getting to her feet and holding her wand aloft, as if she would be able to temper the frustration of the very angry, very powerful Auror.

"Mr. Weasley," she said, attempting a weak smile, "I cannot allow you enter the ward until you've calmed down-"

" _Calm down?!_ " The man bellowed, and Scorpius quickly returned to his seat beside Albus, afraid to get in the way of his swinging limbs. "I get some _vague_ notice while on my mission that my wife and my best mate have been _attacked_ , and you want me to…"

"Ronald." A stern voice came from the doorway of the ward. Ginny Potter had emerged from the operating room wearing sanitary hospital robes over her usual clothing, her long thick red hair pulled back from her face in a haphazard ponytail. Her face was white, but her mouth was set in a thin line as she stared at her brother. If she was surprised to see that they had other company in the hallway, she didn't show it. Scorpius supposed the medi-witch must have informed her that her children had arrived hours ago.

"Gin," he said, coming to her. "Ginny, what happened?"

Albus' mother slowly looked around at them, all sat up and alert for the first time in hours. Ron started, and stared around at them as if noticing his children and niece and nephews for the first time. His bright blue eyes rested on Scorpius for a moment, before moving back to his sister.

"Perhaps we should talk elsewhere," Mrs. Potter sighed.

"Mum!" Lily exclaimed, awake now and rising to her feet. "We have just as much right to know as well." Her eyes glistened once more, one solitary tear rolling slowly down her cheek. "Please," she begged, "he's our dad."

It was rather impressive, Scorpius thought, that Mrs. Potter was able to hold herself together at that. Her eyes had gone glassy, but she remained upright and strong. Scorpius was reminded, suddenly, that his friends' parents had been war heroes.

"All right," she relented, glancing around at them. James quickly vacated his seat, leading his mother to it, where she collapsed into the chair gratefully. Ron sank down between his sister and Rose, who took her father's hand. When she looked up, Mrs. Potter locked eyes with her brother.

"Harry was working late on the case again, he'd flooed to say he would be home around half eight. Hermione - I assume she was late home for the same reason." Her brother nodded, sighing. Ginny continued. "They must have left the building, popped around the corner for a coffee or something, I don't know, but the floo in the Atrium shows that they'd both used the visitors exits. They were ambushed."

Scorpius watched as the older man sucked in a breath. Across from him, Lily has started silently crying again.

"And the diagnosis?" Mr. Weasley asked, still in full Auror mode.

Ginny shook her head slowly. "Complete memory loss..." she confirmed. "...of anything having to do with the magical world. As far as they know, they have no memories beyond what they had when they received their Hogwarts letters."

"So they don't remember us at all?" It was Rose who spoke now, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

Ginny trained her gaze on her niece. "No, darling," she said, "I'm so sorry."

Mr. Weasley had shut his eyes, wincing against the obvious pain of the situation. "I want to see them," he demanded quietly.

"Ron," his sister warned.

"My best mate and my wife are in there," he replied, his voice hard and cold, "I want to see them, I need to know whether this can be reversed."

Scorpius had never known Albus' mum to look so livid. "They're my husband and sister, as well." She spat. "The healers have asked us to stay in the corridor now, as they're running highly complex tests. Don't presume you're the only one this is incredibly difficult for, Ronald." Her voice, so strong and clear, cracked at the end, and she took a shuddering breath. James grabbed his mother's hand quickly, and she squeezed it so tightly her knuckles went white.

Ron blanched, clearly shaken at seeing his sister upset. "I'm sorry, Gin," he said, softly now. "I just - my wife… How am I supposed to…? She doesn't remember me anymore."

Ginny's face softened, and she grabbed her brother's hand as well. They sat there, linked and silent, joined in their immense sorrow.

Sensing that he was definitely now invading a private family moment, Scorpius quickly and quietly made his way out of the private ward. He was surprised, however to see Albus follow behind him, shutting the heavy door gently.

"I'm… erm… I'm so sorry, mate," Scorpius tried, wincing apologetically at his best friend, unsure of what to say. "Your dad, that's… just…"

"Absolute fucking bollocks, is what it is," Al spat, twisting his hands with rage. Of all the emotions his friend could have come out with, this shocked Scorpius the least. Albus had always had issues with displaying sadness of any kind. It was why he and his father clashed so often during Al's childhood - miserable stoic sods, they both were. Anger was simpler for them.

"Yeah," Scorpius said, allowing his friend this one emotional reprieve, "it is."

"Whichever _bastard_ is doing all this…" Al trailed off ominously, cracking his knuckles. "I swear to Merlin, if I find out who's done this, I'll make them pay." Scorpius just nodded along silently.

" _Fuck,"_ Al said, turning on his heel swiftly and punching the wall behind himself. The bones in his wrist made a sickening _cracking_ sound, and he hissed, and tears immediately springing to his eyes. The two boys stared at Al's limp broken hand for a moment while Albus struggled to get himself under control.

" _Episkey,"_ Scorpius finally muttered, pointing his wand at the useless appendage so that it mended itself before their eyes. When Al had regained the use of his hand, Scorpius clapped him on the back gently. "Let's go and get that tea," he said quietly, ushering his friend down the hall.

* * *

The Auror department still hadn't informed him whether or not his job site was safe to return to. In light of recent events, he hardly thought it was top on their list of priorities, what with the department head stuck in the hospital with his memory wiped, but it still would have been nice to know.

Albus hadn't returned home since the incident, instead opting to stay in his childhood bedroom at his family's place. Scorpius hadn't really expected him to return - he'd been quite adamant about staying with his mum, and Merlin knew he was worried about how Lily was coping with the whole thing. Scorpius couldn't help but feeling though, guiltily, that it was a little lonely spending time by himself in their shared flat.

It would be easier, he thought, if he had somewhere to go or something to do. As it was, he'd tidied his bedroom, cleaned all the dishes in the sink the Muggle way (his grandmother would have had a conniption if she'd seen him washing up by hand), organised his bookshelf by alphabetical order, and re-read two of his old school textbooks just out of boredom. It was only after he'd finished _Hogwarts: A Revised History_ that he remembered that he'd nicked that rune book off of Bert's workstation.

At least that would feel as if he were doing something productive, he mused. The rune book had been sent to his department with a load of artefacts from a recent curse breaker's excavation in America last month, and he'd been putting off the translation due to the complexity of the work. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and as they'd sent it over for the British Ministry's inspection, he suspected it had also gone through MACUSA's channels with no real results. Though amidst his other workload, he'd been more than happy to pass this case on to Aubrey, Scorpius' spine now tingled at the thrill of an unsolvable case. It was why he'd become a rune translator in the first place.

Runes from Stateside were largely based in Native American language, of which Scorpius was proficient, but no expert. The underlying issue was that each tribe had their own language, and therefore their own runic alphabet. They had their similarities - if you knew one fluently, you could make some good guesswork regarding the others - it worked similarly to the principle of the Romance languages based upon Latin roots. However, this book was complicated beyond anything he'd seen before, seemingly weaving various tribal runes in amongst others, with no discernable pattern. Scorpius even saw some Latin-based runes included in the mix. These, he translated easily, but they were few and far between.

He flipped through the book, marveling at the symbols. It made no sense - he'd say it was like Greek to him, but Scorpius was fluent in Greek.

His fingers found again the strange crescent moon symbols carved into the leather binding of the book. It wasn't unusual to find books marked this way - ancient tribes would often inscribe their own symbols into treasured artefacts. His fingers traced the roughed leather, pausing when his fingertips found the indented markings.

Curiously, the leather felt fresh. The carved markings were untarnished by the years - it almost seemed as if these markings had been recently carved. Even spells to preserve the bindings would have begun to wear off after several hundreds of years, showing the age of the object. The rest of the book certainly looked ancient enough.

 _That was odd._

Slowly, he flipped through the pages of the tome, looking not for the confusing ancient symbols he'd been puzzling over previously, but for something - anything - that may have been penned within the last century.

He was ready to give up, after about sixty-odd pages of looking, when he saw something that gave him pause. It was so minuscule - if he hadn't been looking for it, he may have missed it entirely. On the bottom of page sixty-eight, there was a tiny inked-in crescent moon.

He stared at the page, though the runes here were no clearer to him than on the rest of the pages.

Searching, desperately, for something to hold onto, he cast various desciphering spells, though the page remained stubbornly unchanged. Finally, he cast a feeble " _revelio"_ charm, without much hope.

Suddenly, as if it were being penned before his eyes, words spread across the page. Scorpius had to blink in the low light of what had now turned into dusk to see the single sentence that formed. The words looked rushed, as if somebody had scribbled them without much time to spare.

 _These unspeakable horrors will test the fate of Wizardkind_ , it said.

Scorpius was surprised to realize he had seen this handwriting many times before, in old journals, research reports, and the like. He had never thought much of it before, but the spiky inked letters now made his blood run cold.

It was Bertram Aubrey's handwriting.

* * *

 **A/N: I know, I know! No Rose/Scorp interaction AND another cliffhanger! Whatever will you do with me?! :)**

 **Next chapter coming soon and I promise it'll have a little bit of R/S in it. Reviews make it come faster!**

 **-MD**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven:**

 **Rose**

* * *

Rose had never been a crier.

Her cousin Lily, by comparison, was practically a human water spout. Though as children, Lily had always been the tough tomboy whereas Rose was more creative, more openly in tune with her emotions, somewhere along the line her well of emotion had run dry. As for Lily, Rose suspected the tough exterior was simply an act - a defense mechanism from having two rather insensitive older brothers.

In the twenty-four hours that followed the attack of her mother, Rose shed not one tear. It wasn't that she didn't feel the loss - it was her _mother,_ for Merlin's sake - but she rather felt as if her dissolving into grief would just be unhelpful considering the circumstances. Her father was a wreck, Hugo had been wandering the house as if lost and confused, and Albus was currently throwing a tantrum of an astronomical size. So, Rose remained stoic. She made countless rounds of tea, she distracted Hugo by taking him flying, she made sure her father was eating. She was helpful.

It was odd how instantly her life had changed. Where she'd been actively avoiding her parents' house recently, Rose now felt as if she couldn't leave. It was just as difficult to remain, though. Everywhere were little reminders of her mother - a note in the kitchen detailing the dinner menu for the week, her favourite lilac-coloured jumper casually strewn about a chair in the sitting room that nobody had dared to move. The family were acting as if she and Harry were dead, rather than perfectly well in St. Mungos - barring their memories, of course. It wasn't as if her mother ceased to exist, just that her body remained but her life had been erased.

She hadn't been to visit the hospital since the day of the attack. Her father and Hugo had gone, but Rose has remained behind. Tidying up the house, running errands. Being helpful.

It was Thursday before she saw Albus again. She had been pulling weeds in her mother's garden, despite the slight drizzle of rain that beat upon her back and made her hair go frizzy. There was one stubborn root that would not come up no matter how hard she tugged - her wand sat uselessly in her back pocket. Her mother had always gardened the Muggle way.

She had nearly gotten that damned root out when there was a loud _Crack!_ beside her that made her jump. Albus had appeared, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You need to come with me," he said without preamble.

"Sorry?" she asked, squinting up at him through the rain.

"Come on, Rose, we haven't got time for this." He said, grabbing her by the shoulders and hoisting her off the ground. "Meet me at my flat in about five seconds," he said, before vanishing again with another loud _Crack!_

Albus had always been a loud apparator. Rose has always assumed it was his own special version of slamming the door.

She paused to consider his proposition. She's never given much credence to Albus' demands in the past, and there was no real no real reason she should start following them now. In fact, he'd been properly unbearable since the hospital, and she wasn't particularly thrilled at the chance to spend more time with her moody cousin. She had work to do around the house.

However, her father was at the Ministry, working _again_ on the case. Hugo was out of the house at a friend's and was unlikely to be back before dinner. Her curiosity prickled the back of her mind.

Rose sighed, giving the stubborn weed one last look before yanking off her gardening gloves. "I'll be back," she told the weed, and turned on her heel, letting off a (slightly less dramatic) _Crack!_ of her own.

* * *

Though she'd inexplicably found herself there rather often recently, Rose wasn't sure if she'd ever been to her cousin's flat whilst entirely sober before. Certainly, she'd never paused to really have a good look at the place. It was a mishmash of styles - it was terribly clear where Al's stuff ended and Scorpius' began. While Al had inherited the Weasley gene that drove them to compulsively horde random knick-knacks in a haphazard, messy fashion, Scorpius' things were fastidious and - _dear Godric,_ entirely alphabetized. His bookshelf containing every book under the sun (Rose's fingers itched for a title or two - she was her mother's daughter, after all) looked very odd next to Al's untidy workbench of various magical flora.

The boys were hunched over something at the dining table. "Took you long enough," Al told her, unhelpfully, when he saw she'd appeared.

Scorpius glanced up at her, barely acknowledging her presence. "Oh good, we're all here then," he said distractedly. There were bags under his eyes and several empty coffee mugs on the table beside him that made Rose wonder if he'd been sleeping at all.

"What's this all about then?" She asked, frowning. Her hands came to rest on her hips in an action that immediately reminded her of her mother. She self-consciously adjusted her stance.

Al nervously looked up at Rose from his perch beside his mate at the table. "You'll have to explain it, mate," he told the blond. Rose didn't care who explained, just as long as the two of them stop being so annoyingly cryptic.

Scorpius glanced back up at her, his slightly too-long hair flopping into his eyes. He flicked it back, rolled up his shirtsleeves and sighed. She noticed his hands were fidgeting with the quill he held. "We've been working on a runic case from America," he started, his eyes flickering to hers, then back to the book in front of him. "I was struggling with the case, and Aubrey was helping me with it. I found it on his desk the day after he was attacked."

"Bertram Aubrey? From the article in the papers?" She asked, the name ringing a bell.

He nodded. "He's my colleague - _was_ my colleague."

"So what does this have to do with us?" Rose asked, still confused.

"I think," Scorpius started, biting his lip, "I think he left a message just before he was attacked. Just here, in this book. I think it has to do with the runes he was working on."

Rose's breath caught in her throat. "What does it say?" She asked, after gathering herself for a moment. He shoved the book towards her, and she squinted at the phrase on the page, inked in spiky black handwriting. She frowned.

"I don't get it," she said, frustrated. The strangest sensation in her chest, like a balloon popping, all at once overcame her.

"No," Al said, frowning, "we didn't either." The trio stared at each other, defeated.

"It's got to mean _something,"_ Scorpius said, tearing at his hair, "I just don't know _what."_ The cousins looked on as he flipped through the pages of the book.

"If only I could decipher the symbols," he said, his thin fingers tracing over the runes, finding a small inked crescent moon there. "then at least I would have an idea of where to start."

"You were top of our year at Ancient Runes," Rose said, frowning, "You got a job with the best runic firm in England right out of Hogwarts," Scorpius blushed under her blunt praise. "If anyone can work it out, you can."

He shook his head, sighing, "it's all in ancient Native American scripture," he explained. "To decipher it, I would need an expert on native runes, and there aren't any that I know of in Britain. It might be a different case if we were in America, but…" he trailed off.

There was a beat while they all pondered this.

"Then let's go to America," Rose said. The suggestion hung in the air like a cloud, and the silence was so deafening that Rose began to wonder if she'd spoken aloud at all.

"Sorry?" Al said, turning to his cousin. She, however, had her gaze trained on Scorpius, who was looking back at her, his face uncharacteristically blank.

"You really think this means something?" She asked him, ignoring Albus.

He took a moment to respond. "Yes," he finally said, breathing out. "It's a clue - I can feel it."

"Fine," Rose said, folding her arms across her chest, feeling oddly calm and centered. "Then we go to America and find somebody who can translate it."

"Sorry-" Al said again, loudly. "But nobody is going to America. Our home is under attack from some evil, invisible force, and we-" he gestured to himself and Rose, "-are the children of the most high-profile Ministry officials in the country, whose parents have just been _attacked._ If you think my mum and your dad are going to let us go _anywhere_ , you're barmy."

"I'm not planning on asking permission," Rose retorted, raising one eyebrow in a challenge to her cousin.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither backing down.

"Look," Scorpius stood, his hands spread in what looked to be a peacekeeping gesture, "I can go on my own, neither of you have to-"

"Shut up, mate," Albus growled at him. "You're not going on your own."

Rose smirked.

"Right, it's decided then," she said, unfolding her arms and running her hands through the frizzy mass of her hair. "Malfoy, where in America are we heading, then?"

Scorpius frowned, thinking hard. "The book is a combination of native tribal and Latin-based runic literature," he said finally. "So I would suggest we start in the first place Western settlers and Native Americans had any sort of interaction." He looked at the cousins, as if the answer should be obvious to them. They both looked back blankly. "The first colony? Jamestown?" He said, a bit arrogantly, Rose thought.

"All right then," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've got Ministry contacts, I can sort the international portkeys." The boys nodded. "When can we leave? Is tomorrow okay?"

Albus shuffled his feet nervously. Scorpius glanced back down at the book.

"Day after tomorrow," Rose relented, sensing their reticence to leave straight away. They hastily agreed to her proposal.

"Brilliant," she said, nodding. "Malfoy, you research as much as you can on the early American colonies. Al, if you could write a letter to our family? It's just safer not to explain before we go," she said, "they'd only try to stop us." He assured her he would draft a message.

"Okay," she said, something that felt like hope bubbling in her gut for the first time in days, "okay, we're doing this." She grabbed the boys' hands in each of her own, and squeezed hard.

"I'll see you in the morning" she promised, before turning and apparating off to the Ministry.

* * *

It was the first time she'd been back since quitting her job. Rose didn't know why, but she'd expected the place to look different. Realistically, she knew this was unlikely - it had only been just over a week since she'd stormed out, after all, but so much had happened since then. However, the familiar buzz of the atrium met her as she stepped out of the phone booth from the visitor's entrance, a shiny badge on her chest reading, "Rose Weasley, international travel queries". She ducked her head to avoid several people she knew in the lobby as she weaved her way to the elevators, wishing she'd worn a hat or something to keep people from recognizing her.

At least the news of the attack on her mother and uncle was still hush-hush. It would not remain so - such high profile officials could not be out of work for too long without drawing notice, but it meant that there were no reporters in the Ministry, for which Rose was thankful.

She pressed the button for the sixth floor on the elevator and thankfully made it all the way to the Department of Magical Transportation offices without bumping into anyone she knew. Steeling her nerves, she made her way inside.

"Hi," she said, as friendly as possible, when she approached the young wizard at the reception desk. "Rose Weasley, here to see Demetrius Macmillian?" The wizard buzzed her through, looking up at her suspiciously, as if trying to place if she were the same Rose Weasley who had famously stormed out of her Ministry job just the week before. As she made her way to Demetrius' office, Rose noticed a girl in the corner had stopped doing her paperwork to blatantly stare as she passed by. Rose sent the witch her most menacingly sickly-sweet smile, and she stopped staring immediately, going back to her papers with a blush tinting her cheeks. " _Nosy bitch,"_ Rose thought, menacingly.

The reception desk wizard had warned Demetrius that she was coming. By the time she made it to his office, he was waiting at the door with a fake smile on his handsome face.

"What a surprise!" He said loudly, obviously his way of announcing to the office that he had no hand in setting up this meeting with the most mentally deranged member of the Weasley family. Come in, come in." He gestured to a plush looking chair squashed into the corner of his tiny office, and Rose sat.

"So, how are you? I must say, I was not expecting you. You look very well, considering..." He said, once he'd settled himself behind his rather large, rather ostentatious oak desk. He tucked a strand of hair back into its perfectly coiffed place as he regarded her. It took her a moment to realize he was talking about her rather dramatic exit from the workforce, and not her mother's attack. _He doesn't know_ , Rose reminded herself.

"I need a portkey to America," she said, not beating around the bush.

Demetrius laughed, as if this were a joke. When she continued to look at him, straight-faced, he became increasingly flustered.

"Well, Rose," he said, fumbling with a quill in his hands, "you must know that last-minute international portkeys are reserved for Ministry employees only…" he let the statement hang in the air, so that she could hear the judgment in his voice. _And you're no longer a Ministry employee_ , it said.

"Yes, well," she folded her hands together on her lap, "I did hope an exception might be made for the family of the Minister of Magic."

"Ah, of course," he said, coming around the front of his desk to sit on it in a practiced casual demeanor, so that Rose could imagine him rehearsing the exact angle of his lean, "this is another matter, to be sure. If your mother can write a letter of permission for you to use the portkey, I can have it arranged straight away."

"I… can't get that letter for you," Rose admitted, "but please, Demetrius, I do need that portkey." She hated the way her voice took on a desperate tone. His eyes flickered, only for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he said, all business. His mouth was set in such a harsh, straight line, his teeth bared in what could barely be qualified as a proper smile. She couldn't believe she'd once found him even passably attractive. "But I cannot bend the rules for anyone, even an old friend."

"Fine," she said, the word coming out harsher than intended. He flinched slightly, and she stood, breathing slowly out of her nose so that she kept calm. "Thank you for your time today."

"And yours," he said, ushering her to the door as if he couldn't wait to get out. As she walked back through the office, ignoring the pointed stares at her back, he called out "Give my best to your mother."

Rose turned and smiled tightly, then made her way out of the department.

Back in the main hallway, Rose leant against a wall, breathing heavily. She'd finally had a lead, finally something to do to avoid feeling useless, to maybe even help her mother and Uncle Harry, and she'd failed in her first task. If she couldn't even get them to America, how would they ever decipher this clue and help her family?

"Rose? Is that you?" A lilting voice came from behind her. Dreading facing any of her former colleagues, she turned slowly.

There was only one other witch in the hallway, and it took a moment to place her. Her sleek blonde hair was tied into a topknot, and her clear blue eyes were looking at Rose with what seemed to be true concern.

"Eloise," she reminded Rose, when she did not immediately speak. Rose flushed, feeling rude.

"Yes, sorry, I know," she said, trying to flatten her own frizzy hair with her hands. "How are you?"

Eloise did not answer, instead choosing to peer at the other girl curiously. "You're upset," she said, stating it as a fact rather than posing a question.

For whatever reason, this was enough to make Rose's eyes well up. For the first time since the attack, she felt the tears threaten to spill over, in front of this virtual stranger.

Eloise's eyes widened. "Not here," she said, grabbing Rose's arm with a surprisingly strong grasp for such a willowy girl, and dragging her out what looked to be a back exit of the Ministry. Once they were out on the street in Muggle London, they ducked down a nearby mews just in time for Rose to completely lose her composure. She sobbed up against a brick wall as Eloise pat her back, conjuring up several tissues and passing them to Rose as she blubbed.

"Shhh… tout va bien se passer," Eloise murmured to her, rubbing her back in comforting circles. It took some time to stop, but finally Rose felt her eyes begin to dry.

"Are you okay?" Eloise asked when Rose's shoulders stopped shaking.

"Yes, I'm all right," Rose replied, truly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry about that," she said, not meeting the other girl's eyes.

"Oh, pah," Eloise said, waving a hand as if to wave away Rose's apology from the air. "You English are so ashamed of your emotions, you have no need to apologize for feeling strongly about something." She smiled at Rose, who felt it was rather unfair that this girl was not just extremely pretty, but nice as well.

"Still, it was silly of me," Rose replied, wiping the mascara from under her eyes.

She glanced around the deserted mews, looking for anything to distract her from her crippling grief and sense of utter uselessness.

"Perhaps not so silly," Eloise said, leaning against the wall next to her. "Is there anything I can do to help fix it?"

Rose snorted, an unattractive sound that caused her nose to drip rather badly. She wiped it hastily. "Not unless you can get me an illegal portkey to America," she replied.

Eloise did not laugh at her joke the way she expected. Instead, her eyes lit up as she looked at Rose.

"I might just be able to help you," she said slowly, a smile gracing her features.

The bubble of hope returned to Rose's chest again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me!**

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve:**

 **Scorpius**

* * *

It was scarcely half past seven, and it looked as if a tornado had blown through Scorpius' bedroom, leaving his clothing scattered around haphazardly. Rose had sent an owl the previous night requesting that the boys be ready to go first thing in the morning.

What did one pack on a mission to a foreign country to unravel a cryptic note left by a former colleague that only you yourself could decipher, and could ultimately change the fate of the Wizarding world?

Scorpius glanced down at the dark emerald dress robes he'd left folded on his bed, wondering what occasion he could possibly need them for. But then again, better to be over-prepared than under, wasn't it? Not to mention, these robes were custom tailored - he wouldn't find such a nice pair as these, should he need dress robes in a pinch. Before he could talk himself out of it again, he stuffed them at the bottom of his magically-expanded rucksack.

"Mate?" Albus said from the other room, "What's the weather like in Virginia?"

It was as if Scorpius' best friend'd had a personality transplant overnight. Where yesterday, he'd been moody and quick to anger, clearly still unable to emotionally cope with the attack on his father, today Al had been like a dog with a bone. He'd been alarmingly bright and chirpy ever since their meeting with Rose. Once he'd come 'round to the idea of going to America, he'd been practically buzzing with the excitement of it all. Scorpius supposed it helped his friend to feel as if they were actively doing something, rather than sitting around moping.

He just hoped this mission turned out the way the cousins wanted. He wasn't an idiot - he knew a huge amount of stress now rested on his shoulders and that indecipherable book of runes. Still, he could feel it all the way to his core - this note from Aubrey meant something. It was a clue.

Scorpius had just tied up his rucksack when the unmistakable sound of floo came from the living room. Figuring Albus was either too busy or lazy to greet their guest, he emerged from his room.

Rose was dusting herself off in his sitting room. It was still odd to see her there - looking pretty in a pair of Muggle jeans and an uncharacteristicly flowery top. Before he could say anything, however, another person stepped out of the grate.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, wincing afterwards when he realised how rude he'd sounded.

"Relax, she's with me," Rose said, rolling her eyes and planting her hands on her slim hips. "Be nice, Malfoy, she's the one getting us to America."

"I thought you had friends in the Transportation Office?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Contacts fell through," Rose waved a hand impatiently at him. "Plus, Ministry portkeys can be tracked - we don't need my father chasing us to the States and bringing us straight back, do we?"

"Witches and Wizards under the legislation of the British Ministry cannot legally travel internationally without an authorised portkey from the Department of Magical Transportation." Scorpius said, as if reciting the Ministerial travel regulations pamphlet by heart, which, to be fair, he probably could do.

"Don't you ever get tired of being a prig?" Rose asked him, good-naturedly, grinning widely when he glared at her in response.

"I think the key word there is _legally,_ " Eloise mused in her lightly lilted accent, tapping her manicured finger against her smiling lips. Rose beamed, and Scorpius gaped at the two of them.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" He asked them warily.

It was that moment that Albus chose to finally emerge from his room. He nodded at his cousin, then stopped dead when he saw who was stood behind her, flushing a spectacular Weasley red.

"Hello," Eloise said, pleasantly.

Albus took a moment to shake off his surprise, but recovered fairly well. He gave a brisk nod and a smile that looked more like a grimace to Scorpius in Eloise's general direction, then turned to his cousin. "Have you got the portkey sorted?" He asked. Scorpius rolled his eyes.

"I've got that covered," Eloise said.

"Right," Al rubbed one hand through his hair, "I _was_ wondering why you'd joined our little party." His tone was as cool and cutting as Scorpius had ever heard it.

There was a beat of silence, then Rose spoke. "Is there going to be a _problem_ , Albus?" She practically snarled at her cousin, raising one eyebrow pointedly with a finesse Scorpius suspected was practiced. "Because I was under the impression that the priority was to help catch the prick who hurt our parents."

Al had the decency to look abashed. "No," he muttered, not meeting his cousin's gaze, "no issue here."

"Good," Rose said, crossing her arms and jutting one hip out as she glared at all of them. She looked so like the bossy Rose she had been at school that Scorpius felt a sudden pang of nostalgia wash over him. Her eyes glanced to him, suddenly, and she smirked, as if she'd had the same thought. He smirked back, and Scorpius felt something flicker between them.

"I can activate the portkey at half eight, sharp," Eloise was saying when the pair finally broke eye contact. "We need to be sure we're ready exactly then, as that's when my colleagues make the changeover from night to day shift and nobody will be watching the illegal Portkey alerts. That's in-" she checked her wristwatch, "approximately forty-five minutes."

"And this will take us to Virginia?" Al asked, folding his hands together to make a steeple in front of his face.

"No," Eloise said, shaking her blonde head so her hair rippled in the dim lamplight. "These are Department of Mysteries prototype spells I've been developing - a sort of luxe comfort portkey, if you will. The idea is that eventually even pregnant witches and the elderly will be able to use them without fear of nausea or dizziness. They have not yet been developed to travel direct the distance that we require. The first will take us to Reykjavik, then to New York, and finally to Virginia."

"And how long will that be?" Rose asked, her arms still folded across her chest.

"Almost a day of traveling," Eloise admitted.

"I'm sorry," Albus interjected, frowning at the French girl. "I thought you said _us_ for a moment."

Eloise trained her icy blue stare into Scorpius' mate, who looked distinctly uncomfortable under her gaze. "Oui, I said _us,"_ she clarified. "Or did you want to be stuck in a foreign country with no means of travel back home?"

Albus coughed, and did not answer.

"Right," Scorpius said, clapping his hands together to diffuse the tension, "Is everybody packed, then?"

Various murmurs of assent were heard throughout the room. Al shuffled awkwardly.

"So, forty-five minutes," he said, swinging his arms at his sides. "What do we do in the meantime?"

* * *

Scorpius read the same passage in his book for what felt like the fiftieth time, one eye trained on the clock in the corner of the room. Eloise was busy scribbling in a notebook at the dining table, her quill scratching loudly in the otherwise silent room. Albus had retired to his room for a "nap" - really, Scorpius suspected his mate was having trouble controlling his hormones in the same room as a particular blonde girl, which was sure to make for a sufficiently awkward trip. Rose was laying haphazardly on the sofa, leafing through an old copy of Quidditch Journal that Al kept on the coffee to give the flat a more masculine feel. She hadn't turned a page in at least ten minutes, and kept nervously checking her wristwatch.

"Quarter to," she finally announced, jumping up from the couch with an energy he'd struggle to muster this early in the morning. "I'll wake Albus," she said, with an evil grin. Moments later, they heard the sound of bed springs creaking and his mate's muffled cry from where he'd been apparently jumped upon.

When she and Al reappeared, Scorpius cast a quick feather-light charm and a _Reducio_ at his rucksack, so that it fit snugly into his pocket. His companions did the same for their luggage, except for Rose, who carried a curiously beaten-looking beaded bag. They were silent as Eloise ripped a single sheet of parchment from her journal, and put her wand tip to its surface. It began to glow faintly, bathing their faces in blue light in the contrast of the still relatively dark room.

"This portkey will only get us to Reykjavik," Eloise reminded them, still waving her wand over the parchment. The very fibers of the material seemed to be glowing, the strands of light weaving together until the words upon the sheet were all alight, the latin text appearing to sink into the surface of the parchment.

"I've never seen a Portkey created before," Rose breathed, the freckles on her skin stark against her face that was awash in blue light. Scorpius smirked at her obviously reluctant admiration of the other girl.

"It is not an easy task," Eloise said nonchalantly, pushing her hair back behind her ears. "It takes many years of training to be able to create magic that bends the laws of structure and time." She took ahold of one of the corners of the parchment, and indicated that the rest should do the same.

Al smirked. "Looks like we've finally found someone cleverer than you," he said to his cousin, out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh shut it, would you, Albus?" Scorpius barely heard Rose's indignant retort before he felt a familiar pull behind his navel, anchoring him to the bit of parchment between them. The room twisted and vanished around him, and they were off into the stratosphere, dimly lit by the streetlamps of London.

Scorpius screwed his eyes shut and braced himself for the unpleasant spinning sensation he usually experienced with portkeys, but it never came. Rather, it felt a bit like he was floating through the air, weightlessly. He was alarmed to realise he no longer had ahold of the portkey itself, but he could feel the pull from behind his navel, almost as if an invisible string had tethered him to the object. It was only until he heard a loud _Whoop!_ from Al that he opened his eyes, one at a time, and glanced around in wonder.

The four of them were suspended, swiftly hurtling through the air as floating in a tube of what looked like clouds of pink candy floss, illuminated by the sunrise behind them. Scorpius reached out to experimentally to touch the clouds, his fingers finding tinglingly cool air beside him as the vapour dissolved at his touch. "This is impossible!" he heard himself shout out, a laugh bubbling up in his chest.

"It's a prototype!" Eloise shouted back, from somewhere in front of him, laughing too. " _Zut Alors,_ I'm so glad it worked!"

"You've never tested one before?" Scorpius called back, alarmed. She just laughed.

It was a rather pleasant half hour, in all. Scorpius was rather comfy and just about to fall back asleep, when the journey ended as abruptly as it'd begun. At one moment, they were suspended midair, passing over the Atlantic, glimpsing rippling waves below them through the clouds, and the next, they were dropping out of the sky into a vast farmer's field.

" _Oumpfh"_ Scorpius said, as he had the wind knocked out of him. He stumbled and landed on his arse, putting his hand down hard on a rock to catch his fall. It was a moment before he realized his palm was bleeding, rather profusely, and he pressed down on it to stem the blood flow.

He looked up to see Rose dusting off her jeans, breathing deeply. She offered him a hand to help him up, without a trace of teasing. Scorpius took it with his good hand, glancing at her suspiciously. "I hate flying," she muttered to him quietly.

"You were Gryffindor's star chaser," he said, taken aback.

"Yeah, with a _broom,_ " she said, rolling her eyes. "Looking down and seeing nothing but clouds beneath you…" she trailed off, shuddering.

"Sorry, where are we?" Al asked, having trudged over from where he'd landed a few metres away. One of his legs was covered up to the knee in mud, and he shook off excess muck before scowling at it and muttering a quick _Scourgify._

Eloise muttered to herself while leafing through her notebook. "We're slightly off-course," she admitted, biting her lip. "Still in Iceland, I would just say slightly North of our destination."

" _Point me,"_ Rose murmured, her wand flat in her palm. It spun around to the left, gold sparks shooting out of its tip. They all looked in the direction, to see nothing but several more miles of field.

"Curious spell," Eloise commented.

There was a beat before Rose answered. "My mum invented it."

Scorpius wondered if he'd imagined the tremor in Rose's voice, but had little time to contemplate it before she trudged off through the field in the direction her wand had given, Eloise trailing behind. Albus shrugged at his mate before following the girls. The grass here was an odd yellowy-green that Scorpius had never seen in England, and the frost that covered it was thick and made a rather satisfying crunching sound as they walked. The plains stretched on, but there were several craggy-looking mountains visible on the horizon. They must have gone over a mile before they saw any sort of human-made structure. It was an old wooden building that once may have housed livestock, judging by the smell it gave off, even from its exterior. The four paused in front of it, staring into its depths through the sparse wooden slats. _"Homenum Revelio,_ " Albus said, waving his wand in front of him. There was a moment of silence, before Rose went to push the creaking door open.

"I just need a few minutes to recalculate for the next Portkey," Eloise said, once they'd huddled in the shelter of the old barn. "My notes said we should have landed about fifty miles southwest of here - while we've been lucky here in Iceland, I don't want to undershoot New York and end up in the Atlantic." She sat on an overturned bucket, sighing as she retrieved her notes once again.

The remaining three stood awkwardly, Rose rubbing her hands together from the cold. Scorpius conjured up a jar and some bluebell flames, and handed it to her. Rose smiled at him gratefully.

It was _cold._ He supposed it was to be expected, considering they were in Iceland in late autumn, but the chill of the place hit him all the same. Even the solid-looking barn doors, large and sturdy though they were, couldn't keep out the sting of the wind. Al produced some flames of his own, and wandered off further into the barn, muttering about finding some more things to sit upon.

"Your hand's cut," Rose said, suddenly, staring at where it hung limply at his side. A glance down told him it'd started to bleed again.

"Ah, yeah," he said, bringing it up to his face to inspect it. "Hit it on a rock when we landed," he shrugged.

"Give me it," Rose said, not waiting for him to react and grabbing his arm. She muttered a _Tergeo_ to clean it out, and inspected the cut, frowning. "It's quite deep, why didn't you say anything?" He gave no response. "Do you mind?" She asked, indicating her wand and staring up at him with those big blue eyes. She was very close, now, bent over inspecting his palm. He could see several tendrils of curly red hair struggling to escape from the elastic she'd tied it back with.

"Sure," he said, shrugging again. "I've never been much use at healing charms."

She said nothing in response, but waved her wand over his palm. He watched as the skin seemed to seamlessly stitch itself together in front of his eyes.

"There's not even a scar," he marveled, when she was done. "I can never do it that well."

Rose rolled her eyes, but he could see that she was pleased.

"I think I've got it," Eloise said, coming out of a trance. "My wand movements… I dabbed when I should have _jabbed._ "

"That's an honest mistake, I suppose." Albus was back, seemingly having found nothing to sit upon. Rose rolled her eyes again.

"So can we carry on to New York?" Rose asked, standing upright and tucking her wand back into her wildly curly ponytail.

"I don't see why not," Eloise replied, brightly. She checked over the writing on the paper again, then touched her wand again to the parchment. It glowed ultramarine.

"Well?" She said, looking at all of them. Scorpius shrugged, and grabbed a corner of the parchment.

This journey was not nearly as enjoyable as the last one. They were now bathed in darkness, flying deeper into the night as the Meridian Line grew further and further in distance behind them. About two minutes into the journey, the cool breeze turned icy, the sting of the cold biting Scorpius' cheeks and lips. The cloud tunnel they flew in contained them, never faltering in its stability, but the lightweight feeling of the previous trip was gone, replaced with a muggy haze. He wondered if these clouds were due to rain.

It was a decidedly longer trip than the first one. They must have been up in the air for close to an hour, by his estimation. Just when Scorpius' teeth had begun chattering at a nearly impossible volume, the sky spat them out again, into another field.

"Have we gone off course again?" Rose asked when they'd all dusted themselves off and had a glance around. She'd retrieved a muggle jacket from her small beaded bag, and Scorpius was pleased that she'd brought several spares for the others, as well. He hadn't been prepared for the crippling cold, in his light muggle jumper. He accepted the coat gratefully, though it was several sizes too large for him. There was a crippling moment of fear while he wondered if it belonged to her father, before his thoughts were interrupted.

"No," Eloise said, frowning into the dark, "we should be somewhere in the middle of Central Park."

Scorpius peered into the dark trees to his left, and just glimpsed the top of some buildings beyond them. They'd landed beside a copse of American elms (Al was quick to inform them of the genus), and just through the gaps in the branches could they see the park beyond. It stretched on for what seemed like ages.

"I just need a moment to work out the Portkey to Virginia," Eloise said, after she'd pulled on a jacket Scorpius recognised as belonging to Rose. The idea of travelling in another ice tunnel did not sound particularly appealing to Scorpius just at this moment, and he could tell by the silence of his companions that they felt similarly.

"I've never been to New York," Rose said suddenly, wistfully, a small smile on her face. "My mum and I were supposed to take a trip together when I graduated from Hogwarts, but she got caught up in Ministry business and couldn't go."

They were all silent at that, for a moment.

"Could we take the morning to see the city?" Scorpius finally ventured, looking around at all of them. "If you think about it, we've gained five hours in time difference anyway."

Al shrugged, and Eloise gave him a knowing smile.

"Great," he said, taking his own rucksack out of his pocket and enlarging it back to its usual size. He shrugged it onto his shoulders, as Al did the same. "Shall we find some breakfast, then? I'm starving."

He walked towards the trees for a moment, only stopping when he heard a call from behind him.

"It's this way, genius," Rose said, smirking and leading them all off the opposite way. Listening for a moment, he could hear the distant honk of traffic from the direction she was headed. She skipped merrily ahead, her red hair lit up like a halo by the light guiding from the tip of her wand.

"Fine," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. Hiking his rucksack further up onto his shoulders, he followed the group into the darkness of the park.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this is a bit of a filler chapter! It's about to get pretty active in the next few chapters, so hold tight! Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing! -MD**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen:**

 **Rose**

* * *

New York was nothing like she'd imagined. She could still remember those rainy Sundays watching Breakfast at Tiffany's with Nana Granger with a hot mug of milky tea, dreaming about the streets of New York in grainy technicolor. New York in reality was dirty, and grey. In the five blocks they'd walked outside of Central Park, the city at just after four in the morning was grimy and full of tramps sleeping on dirty slabs of cardboard on the cold pavement. Hardly the idealised version of the city Rose'd expected.

Once they'd found a 24-hour diner on the southern side of the park, the four of them huddled over their coffees, hands curled around the warm mugs in an effort to work some heat back into their fingers. She'd have asked for a flat white, but the gruff looking man who'd served them had given her a look that clearly said they could stick to filter coffee or have none at all. The coffee was watery and tasteless, but Rose sipped it as if it were the elixir of life, breathing warmth back into her body. Though London'd still had a tinge of that crisp autumn smell lingering in the air, New York was firmly in the depths of winter. A light breeze outside carried flurries of snow past the window of the diner as they huddled in the warmth of their four-person booth.

"So, tell me about this book of runes," Eloise said, once they had thawed out a bit. "I've only heard bits and pieces from Rose."

Scorpius launched into the same tale Rose had heard before, about finding it in his colleague's notes, and the hidden message they were sure was linked to the suspicious attacks around Wizarding England. "The symbols are almost tribal in nature," he was saying now, excitedly flipping through the book so fast he nearly edged Al's coffee off the table.

"Can I see?" Eloise reached for the tome, and Scorpius handed it over carefully, as if giving up his newborn child.

She poured over the book, a manicured finger running along the page as she read.

"This is fascinating," she said, "some of the runes are of Latin origin, but the others…they're like..."

"Almost like a collaboration, that's what I thought," Scorpius was nodding enthusiastically. Eloise sent him a grin.

"Which is why we decided it'd be worthwhile to go to the first settlement where latin-based and tribal wizarding languages coincided," Rose interjected, reaching for the book. She quickly shoved it into her beaded bag that sat beside her in the booth. "Don't want any Muggles seeing it," she explained. Scorpius regarded her across the table with a quizzical smile.

A jingling sound interrupted their conversation, and a man with matted grey hair and a dirty highlighter-yellow beanie walked through the door. He was covered in soot and clearly homeless, and the man at the counter quickly headed him off. They began to argue, presumably about whether or not the man could stay.

"I feel quite sad for him," Albus said, twirling the spoon in his coffee cup as he watched the man over Rose's shoulder. "Imagine not even being allowed a cup of coffee on a winter day."

"Mmm," murmured Rose, but she said nothing. In truth, the weather-beaten man scared her a little bit. She'd seen a homeless man in Oxford Circus kick off once, whom her granddad Granger had said was clearly on some form of hard drugs. She shifted further into the booth, slightly closer to Eloise, and kept her head down.

"Hey! You kids," the man was coming towards them now, reeking of booze. Rose's eyes widened, her eyes meeting Albus' where he sat diagonally from her across the table. She could see him gearing up to retort that at twenty-three, he was hardly a kid anymore, but shot him a warning glare before he could mouth off.

"Got any spare change?" The man asked, grinning at them to bare a smile that was missing several teeth.

"Sorry sir," Scorpius said quickly in his most clipped English accent, "we're from out of town and don't have any local currency."

"No?" The man asked, looking at them all. Rose resolutely stared at the countertop, willing him to go away. "How about you, Red?" He leant down next to her, the smell of his boozy breath blowing into her face. "Got nothing to say?" One of his grubby hands moved to rest on the table next to Rose's.

Immediately, Scorpius lay a hand across the table protectively, between hers and the stranger's. He stared into the man's face, politeness never faltering, but with a hard stare that was plain to read. Albus' eyes had gone wide, and Rose could see his hand close over the wand in his jeans pocket.

"All right, all right," the man said, backing up slightly. "No need to get twitchy, I'm not gonna touch your little girlfriend, here." Still smiling, the man backed away, stealing a couple of sugar and salt packets from the table next to them as he turned and left the diner.

Rose finally exhaled when he'd gone, realising her hand was white and trembling on the tabletop. Noticing this, Scorpius grabbed it and squeezed once, before letting it go.

"I'm fine," she insisted, a little irritated that she'd truthfully felt so comforted by his brief touch.

"All right, I think I've seen enough of New York," Al said, polishing off the last of his coffee. "Shall we carry on to Virginia, then?"

Eloise sighed, tucking her bright blonde hair behind one ear. "Oui," she conceded, nodding, "we should proceed to our final destination."

Rose sighed deeply, letting go of her fairytale notions of the city, and agreed that they should move along now. The group began to gather their things, and Rose reached down beside her for her mother's old expandable beaded bag. After a moment of groping around on the seat next to her, Rose ducked her head under the table for a better vantage point.

The bag was missing.

The air felt as if it had been instantly sucked from her chest, like a horrendously violent vacuum.

"My… bag," she managed to stammer, still in disbelief.

"What is it?" Al had paused to look at her, one of his arms in his coat, and one out.

"It's gone," Rose said, fear gripping at her throat. "It was on the seat beside me, just a moment ago…"

They all stared blankly back at her.

"That… that tramp!" Rose said, knowing her cheeks would be going quite red now. "He took it, I know he did!"

Scorpius was out of his seat in a flash. "The book," he said, going even paler than his usual fair complexion "Merlin, you put the book in the bag, didn't you?" Rose's eyes went wide, and she nodded, too horrified to speak. The four of them raced out of the diner, onto the street, now bustling with activity of early morning delivery drivers and construction workers setting up site across the way. Amidst the morning fog, they were unable to spot the man in the bright yellow beanie.

"Oh Merlin, oh Merlin," Scorpius said, collapsing against a glass storefront Rose glanced both ways down the street, but failed to see the man who had spoken to them in the diner anywhere.

One of the construction workers across the way called to her, "You kids lost, darlin'?" He had a weathered, friendly face and was wearing a high-vis jacket with the words Manny's Demolition emblazoned across the breast.

Rose was making her way across the road before her companions could bring her back. After all, this man looked friendly enough. "Have you seen a homeless man with a bright yellow hat on?" she asked, breathlessly.

The man frowned, thinking. "Don't think so, sweetheart," he said, looking concerned. "Is there a reason you're looking for him?"

"He stole my bag," she answered, close to tears now. Her three companions had joined her across the street, Scorpius still frowning deeply and running his long fingers through his hair repeatedly.

"Oh dear," the kindly man said, rubbing his forehead. "Let me see if any of my crew have seen him." He called out to the rest of the men on the site, asking if they'd seen the man with the yellow hat.

Another man, slightly younger than the first one, whom Rose assumed was Manny, came up to them, taking off his hard hat as he did so. "You see anything, Jose?" Manny asked him.

"I ain't seen nobody today," Jose said, his voice heavily accented, and his brown eyes squinting in the early morning sunlight, "but there's a man who hangs around this area who wears a bright yellow beanie - I'd bet it might be the same man?"

"Do you know where he could have gone?" Albus had interjected, stepping forward.

The two men looked at each other.

"There's a soup kitchen on 51st and Lexington," the younger said, shrugging, "The homeless crowd - they tend to stick together. Might be somebody who knows him there."

"Thank you so much," Rose said, already heading down the street again. Her friends ran to catch up behind her.

"Where's Lexington?" Al asked, shaking his head at the street signs. "This city is so much more confusing than London."

Eloise laughed. "It's on a grid system," she informed them, taking the lead and walking across the street, heading south. "It's one of the easiest cities to navigate in the world."

Had Rose not been so worried about the state of her bag, she would have noticed the brownstone buildings had given way for much taller, grey skyscrapers all around them as they walked. The sun was completely up now, lighting up the frosty streets of the city so that the softly falling flakes twinkled. It was still early enough so that there weren't many people about, and the odd car or yellow cab would pass them on the streets, making muddy tracks in the snow.

When they finally reached 51st, they trudged along the street until they got to Lexington Avenue. They quickly found the soup kitchen by following the brightly coloured flyers, but found that there was nobody around, save for a janitor taking out the rubbish at the building next door.

"Sorry, what time does this place open?" Scorpius asked, taking the lead.

"Not until Monday," the janitor said, hauling bags of rubbish into the industrial-sized bins and barely affording their ragtag group a second glance. "It's shut on the weekends."

"You're kidding me," Scorpius cursed under his breath. "How are we meant to find him now?"

"People don't need to eat on the weekends?" Al asked, his eyebrow raising, and a trace of sarcasm creeping into his voice.

The janitor paused to get a good look at the four of them. "You kids homeless?" he asked, skeptically eyeing up Scorpius' jumper, which was quite obviously cashmere.

"We are looking for somebody," Eloise cut in before the boys could interject whatever smart comments were on the tips of their tongues. "Perhaps you know where somebody like this might be sleeping?" She gestured loosely to the soup kitchen.

The man sighed, setting down his bag of rubbish, and wiped his hands on his trousers. Rose tried desperately not to think of the germs. "Plenty of shelters around," he said, after a moment. "But even with the snow, most folks settle down in Central Park at night." He looked at all of them seriously for a moment. "No place for nice kids like you to be goin' though," he warned.

"I think we'll be okay, thank you," Albus said, smirking. Rose, however, had seen his shield charms and was less confident in his abilities.

"I mean it," the man said, shaking his finger at Al, who was still smiling like a cocky little shit, "Can get real rough out there if you're not careful."

"Thank you for your help," Rose said kindly, stepping on her cousin's toes, hard.

When they'd made it back to the corner of 51st, they all stopped, unsure of where to go next.

"What now?" Al asked, looking around as if the city would provide the answers they sought. "We just wait until dark?"

"We need to find some sort of shelter," Rose said, rubbing her arms for warmth, wishing desperately she could take her wand out and refresh her heating charms, but aware that there were increasingly more and more Muggles wandering the streets at this time who would certainly see her.

"The magical district is not far from here," Eloise shrugged, her words coming out in cold clouds of air in front of her face. "We could get a room?"

The others nodded in assent, too chilled to argue.

"Follow me," Eloise said, turning and heading the opposite of the way they'd come.

They'd been walking fifteen minutes or so in the cold when the skyscrapers had begun to clear again, giving way to shorter, older looking buildings. Some were painted quirky colours, looking as if they were made of children's sweets against the sugary coating of fresh fallen snow. Cheery wreaths of pine and holly were hung from doorways and lamp posts, held together with twine and ribbons. Somebody had strung up fairy lights across a storefront that still twinkled in the early morning dim, and various bike messengers weaves through the streets, taking care not to skid on the ice-covered ground. The effect of it all was rather magical, Rose thought.

"What is this place?" She asked Eloise, who was frowning at a building across the road.

"The East Village," she replied, checking both ways before crossing the street.

They were walking towards a building that advertised both acro-yoga and a cafe with organic plant-based matcha lattes. Rose wasn't entirely sure what either of those things were, but she figured it couldn't be what they were looking for.

Eloise ducked down an alley at the side of the building, glancing over her shoulder quickly to ensure the rest were following her. They came to quite an out-of-place, grand, red Colonial-style door halfway down the length of the brown-brick building, and she whipped her wand out, brandishing it as she tapped the large brass eagle door knocker. The eagle raised its head and spread its wings in an elegant gesture so lifelike that Rose, who had grown up around magic her entire life, needed to peer a bit closer to make sure it wasn't a real bird.

"Americans," Eloise smirked, "...so demonstrative."

"You're French," Al reminded her. "Didn't your country basically define extravagance?"

Eloise smirked, and stepped through the closed door as if it were not there at all.

Glancing quickly at the boys, who shrugged in tandem, Rose rolled her eyes and followed.

What she had been expecting, Rose wasn't sure, but she stepped into a space that was entirely unlike anything she'd imagined. While British witches and wizards had been frequenting places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade for years, the American equivalent was somewhat less quaint. Instead, Rose found herself inside what almost looked like a Muggle shopping mall - glass shops lined a gigantic atrium, with separate wings as wide as boulevards branching off in various directions. There were shops here advertising everything from frog spawn to the newest racing brooms, all in bold print and vivid colour. Stores were already publicising Christmas sales and decked with tinsel, and a cafe nearby was producing some of the most incredible coffee smells Rose had ever experienced. Looking upwards, she could see witches and wizards strolling around on floors at least ten levels upwards, like a glass skyscraper with a hollow centre. The upper floors looked to be residential, with colourful washing hanging out to dry, and young children tossing a quaffle back and forth. Where there should have been a ceiling, there looked to be just sky, and yet the falling snow seemed to disappear before it reached any of the floors, and the atmosphere was comfortably warm rather than the chilling temperature outside. In the middle of it all stood a lush green common, with several apple trees dotted around the space.

"Wow," Scorpius breathed from somewhere behind her. "An enchanted ceiling this size must be incredibly difficult to maintain," he whispered to her, a quiet reverence in his voice, "the charm on The Great Hall at Hogwarts needs to be refreshed every year, and this must be fifteen, twenty times the size?"

Rose tore her gaze from the sky to reply that she, too, had read _Hogwarts: A History,_ and already knew this particular factoid, when she saw that Eloise had set off in the direction of a bank of lifts. Putting aside her retort for now, she followed the other girl. Once they'd all piled inside, a warm American voice greeted them.

"What floor?"

"Six, please." Eloise said, checking the directory.

"As you wish," the elevator dinged. They shot up, the glass around them so gossamer thin, Rose experimentally pressed a hand to it to see if it was real or an illusion. A cool, smooth surface met her touch and glimmered slightly where it met her palm. Before she could experiment further, the lift dinged again and opened to another level.

"Please come again, and have a nice day," the elevator wished them as they exited.

This floor was somewhere between commercial and residential, with quiet cafes lining the halls and a bookshop across the way, its bell softly chiming as the owner changed the sign in the door to "open". They hadn't walked far before they were stood before a hotel, the glass pristine and looking into a cosy lobby, the witch sat behind the desk charming a pot of coffee to start brewing. A sign outside the door advertised rooms for various prices.

They all stopped before entering, Al and Scorpius trailing behind a bit and frowning when they saw the rate sheet.

"How much money did we bring?" Al asked, looking worried.

"I've got galleons," Scorpius said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"American wizarding currency isn't the same as ours, and the exchange rate will be horrific," Rose shook her head. "I had some American notes in my purse left over from the last time my dad visited, but…" she trailed off, embarrassed and feeling frustrated with herself for losing such a valuable asset. If only she'd kept a closer eye on her bag.

"Look, I don't care what the exchange rate is," Scorpius said, after a beat. "We need somewhere to wait until dark, and to sleep tonight, don't we?"

"You're not paying for us all," Rose begun to argue, but was cut off.

"My family's really bloody rich, all right?" He said, rolling his eyes in an attempt to look nonchalant, but going slightly pink. "It's nothing. It's no big deal."

Albus shrugged, clearly satisfied, and Eloise gave a little laugh before pushing open the door to the hotel. Al followed her inside.

"Come on," Scorpius said, holding the door open for her. Begrudgingly, Rose followed the others inside.

"Can I help you?" the American reception witch was young and exceptionally perky - a bit too much so for the time of morning, Rose thought, but she _did_ have a large mug of coffee steaming in front of her, so perhaps it was caffeine-fueled.

"Er, yes," Al said, running his hand through his hair like he always did in front of pretty girls. "We'd like to book a room for the night."

She looked at Albus for a moment before she answered, as if trying to place him. "Just one room? Not two?" The witch asked, a confused little frown crossing her features. "Surely your girlfriends deserve a bit of privacy?" She gestured to Al and Eloise, and then Rose and Scorpius.

"Oh, no - you see, we don't -" Rose started, but was quickly cut off.

"An excellent point," Scorpius said, sliding to the front of the group. "Would you happen to have any suites with two bedrooms?"

Her face lit up as she eyed up Scorpius, and Rose frowned.

"Room number 112 is just great," she enthused, waving her wand and magicking up a silver key. "I'm sure it will suit all of your needs, sir."

"Brilliant," Scorpius said, smiling back. "We'll take it."

* * *

"What was that about?" Rose demanded, as soon as the bellboy had left and the four of them were alone in their suite.

"Al's Dad is still incredibly well-known internationally," Scorpius sighed, dropping his rucksack onto a squashy-looking sofa and sinking into it. "Albus looks just like him - it's better if we pose as holiday seekers while we're abroad unless we want to get recognised and have our parents dragging us back home."

"Hmmmph" Rose said, crossing her arms and dropping onto the armchair opposite, because his logic was sound and she couldn't argue further.

"I know it's not ideal, but we'll need to pose as couples on holiday." he said, kicking off his shoes and placing them neatly beside the sofa while Al sat beside him and practically flung his own trainers across the room. "Obviously Al and Rose are related, so it makes the most sense that Al and Eloise couple up, and Rose and I do as well." The four of them were silent at this.

"Yes, this is fine." Eloise finally said, moving towards the kettle in the corner of the room to make tea.

"Al?" Scorpius asked, turning to his best mate, who grunted in return, watching Eloise out of the corner of his eye.

"So what's the plan now?" Rose asked, before Scorpius could ask her how she felt about pretending to be his girlfriend. She begun to wind her wild curls into a topknot, just for something to do.

"Well, I'm exhausted," Al announced, yawning, as if to prove his point. He checked his wristwatch. "It's only just gone nine now, and as we don't have anything to do before we try to find our hobo friend in the park tonight, I'm having a nap."

"Great," said Scorpius, who had retrieved his wand from his rucksack and had performed security spells around the room quickly. "I landed in a bit of mud in the park, so I'm going to freshen up a bit."

Al headed off into one of the bedrooms, and Scorpius in the opposite direction, to where Rose could see a grand lavatory beyond an ornate door.

When they'd gone, Eloise turned to Rose, handing her a mug of tea, which she accepted gratefully. The two of them dipped their drinks in silence.

"I may have a rest, too." Eloise said, after a minute. "We should discuss sleeping arrangements, non?"

"Oh, of course," Rose said, colouring for some reason, "if you'd like to share with Scorpius, I'm happy to bunk with Al."

Eloise looked at her oddly. "Share with Scorpius?" She asked, her porcelain features traced with confusion.

"I mean," Rose started, flustered, "aren't you… you know…"

Eloise laughed, shaking her head. "It's not that kind of engagement," she said.

What did that even mean?

"Look, shall we share a room?" Eloise asked politely, still smiling at Rose. "For modesty's sake, of course?"

"Oh, er, sure," she replied.

" _Magnifique,_ " she said, still beaming at Rose.

"Right," Rose forced herself to smile back. "Magnifique."

* * *

 **A/N: Yes, hello, sorry, I'm back - I promise. I'm just editing the next chapter at the moment, and should hopefully be uploading shortly. I'm looking to get into a better rhythm of writing in the New Year, and now that things have quieted down a bit with work and real life, this should start to get a bit easier! Thanks so much for sticking with me :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen:**

 **Scorpius**

* * *

The facilities in this hotel were well worth the obscene amount gold he'd paid for their room. When he stepped into the shower, Scorpius was delighted to find several faucets with various perfumes and functions lined up along the spacious shower cubicle. He sampled a few until he found a pine and citrus scent he liked, and lathered himself with it, enjoying how the water seemed to warm him from his insides out.

Despite the warm water, a fear was beginning to creep over him, making his skin crawl. What were they doing here, in America? Without the book of runes safely in his rucksack to reassure him, he started to wonder whether he'd acted far too rashly, on some hunch that had taken them halfway across the world on a whim. Had he actually found significance in the scribbles Bert had left in that book, or was he simply seeking answers so keenly that he'd imagined it all? Could it be that his brain was finding meaning in the meaningless, in a desperation to comfort Rose and his best mate in their grief?

What if this mission failed? What if he'd been entirely wrong?

No, it didn't bear thinking about. One thing was certain in Scorpius' mind - they needed to get that book back.

With that resolute thought, he switched off the shower taps, a fluffy towel hovering outside wrapped itself around him, tucking itself snugly around his waist. Despite the situation - and himself - Scorpius smiled. The immense magical convenience and creature comforts of this grand hotel reminded him of being home at Malfoy Manor. As he'd done his best not to touch his considerable inheritance since leaving school, Scorpius had been living with quite a lot less of these added luxuries for the last few years. He was reminded now how nice they could be.

Muttering a drying spell at his hair, which was considerably mussed up due to lack of product in it (he usually didn't go out without at least a touch of Sleekeazy's), he grabbed his dirty clothes from where he'd folded them on the bathroom counter, and emerged from the lavatory in search of his rucksack. He turned the corner and ran smack into a moving body with quite a lot of red curly hair.

"Oof!" went Rose, as she toppled backwards. In desperation not to fall, she reached out to grab his shirt to steady herself. It might have worked, had Scorpius been wearing a shirt. As it was, she only succeeded in pulling him down with her.

They landed on the floor in a pile of limbs, Scorpius acutely aware of his still slightly damp arms wrapped around her, the water seeping through her shirt and leaving damp patches. She smelled slightly sweaty from their earlier travels, but her hair was wonderfully lavender-scented and intoxicatingly Rose.

"Fucking hell Malfoy, get off of me!" She gave him one big shove, and he rolled to one side, cracking his elbow against the hard tile of the cold marble floor.

"Careful, Weasley," he moaned, cradling his injury and inspecting the bruise that was already blooming across his quite alabaster skin. "Are you actually trying to off me, or are you just the clumsiest person alive?"

She didn't say anything in response, and he glanced up to see her staring at a point just above his head, her face flushed a magnificent shade of beetroot.

"You've, erm… your towel," she said, when he looked at her questioningly.

Suddenly, Scorpius realized why he could feel a bit of a breeze around his nether regions. "Oh" he said, quickly covering himself up, though his modesty remained in tatters. "Any chance you didn't see anything?" He asked her, relieved that she seemed even more embarrassed than he was.

"Little to no chance," she replied in a slightly strangled voice.

"Brilliant," he stood, checking his towel was still in place, and offered her a hand to help her up. She stood, still not meeting his eyes, her gaze hovering around his chest area.

"I'm, erm, going to go take a nap," she announced, biting her lip. "So if you need me, that's where I'll be. Not that… you'll need me, but, just in case of… emergency. Or something," she finished lamely, wringing her hands for a moment, then clapping them together "Okay!" She laughed suddenly, slightly shrilly, backing down the hall. "I'll be seeing you later, then!"

He looked after her in bewildered amusement. "Hopefully next time you'll see a bit less of me," he said, cocking his head to one side as he tried not to smile.

"Ha!" She was backing into the bedroom at the end of the hall now. "Good one!" The door slammed behind her.

Scorpius stared after her for a moment, shaking his head, before heading back into the living room to retrieve a spare change of clothes from his rucksack.

"Oh, hello," he said, when he found Eloise still there, idly flipping through an American newspaper as she sipped her tea.

" _Salut,_ " she said, smiling at him, "I heard a crash in the hall. Is everything all right?"

"Oh, er, yes." He said, digging through his rucksack. "Just had a bit of a run-in with Rose."

"Ah, I see," she said, sipping her tea with the hint of a smile. Scorpius found himself getting irritated at her knowing grin.

"Right," he said, gripping his change of clothes in one hand, his pants balled up inside the folds of his shirt so that Eloise couldn't see them, "well I'll see you in a bit, then."

She waved him off, still smirking.

No matter how much he knew Al obviously liked Eloise, Scorpius was beginning to find her rather annoying.

* * *

When he entered the room, Scorpius was unsurprised to find Albus still awake and sprawled across one of the twin beds, thumbing through an old weathered book, rather than asleep as he'd promised.

"What have you got there?" He asked his friend, pulling on a shirt once he'd shut the door.

"Just something my dad gave me," Al said, closing it and shoving it under his folded arms. He sat up and regarded his best mate. "Do you think we're mental to have come here?"

Scorpius exhaled before answering, coming to sit on the bed, still wrapped in his towel. "Maybe," he said, honestly.

Al nodded, picking a stray thread on the mattress rather than meeting his eyes.

"I just couldn't not do anything," he said, quietly. "If this thing with my dad… if it's permanent, I don't want to say I sat around and did nothing to try and help him." He sighed, swiping at his eyes furiously. Scorpius pretended not to notice. "It's not what he would have done - he would have wanted to fight." Al looked at him, his eyes blazing.

"I understand," Scorpius said, though he wondered if he did, truly. Malfoys traditionally weren't what you would call fighters. Though they had a perfectly amicable relationship, he realized he wasn't sure if his own father would have gone to this length for him.

"We're going to find a cure," Al said, with steely determinedness, "we're going to find your runes, and then we're going to find a cure for this."

"We will," Scorpius promised his mate, because it was the least he could do. "Don't worry."

"Great," Al said, as if the matter were closed. "Now, what's up with you and my cousin?"

"Sorry?" Scorpius waffled, not expecting the sudden change of subject.

"You're acting weird," Al declared suspiciously "You've been unusually polite to each other all day."

"Nothing gets past you, does it, Albus?" Scorpius rolled his eyes.

He continued, unperturbed by Scorpius' comment. "I don't know what's going on," he said squinting suspiciously, "but I don't like it." He sighed. "However, you're finally getting along without arguing like a pair of first years, so" he paused, as if pained, "just keep being _friendly,_ I guess, at least until we get back to England."

Scorpius sighed. "Your double meaning has been duly noted," he assured his friend.

"Good," Albus said, standing up and clapping his hands together. "Shall we look for some food, then? I'm famished."

* * *

It was several hours before the sun began to disappear behind the cityscape through the large windows of their suite. Or, at least, Scorpius assumed they were windows to the outside, and not bits of wall charmed to look like they were letting through sunlight. He couldn't be sure. Either way, once their living room had faded into darkness, the four of them bundled up again to face the cold.

"I've mapped out the different regions of Central Park," Rose was saying as they left the safety of the Wizarding borough. "It's actually rather large, so we need to decide whether or not to split up to cover more ground, or to stick together."

Al looked around at them, uncomfortably. "Split up?" He suggested, glancing at Scorpius for reassurance. "I just want to get this over and done with." A gust of freezing wind blew past, making them all shudder.

"Fine by me," Rose said, attempting to rub some warmth back into her hands. Scorpius noted that they had gone a mottled purple colour.

"Here," he yanked his thick woolen gloves off his own hands and shoved them into hers. When she tried to protest, he a shot her a look. "You clearly need them more than I do," he stated. She sighed, but pulled them onto her hands nonetheless.

"Okay," Rose said loudly, as Scorpius studiously ignored Al's frown and Eloise's smirk. "There should be a Subway station just around the corner." She studied a tourist's Subway map that she'd purchased from a street vendor. "We need the… oh dear, this is confusing." A wrinkle appeared on her brow, so Scorpius peered over her shoulder to take a look at the brightly coloured squiggles on the map.

"I'm fairly sure we need the Q train going uptown," he finally decided, pointing where the yellow line cut into the large green park in the middle of the island. "My goodness, I'll never complain about the tube again," he laughed.

Rose squinted at him. "You take the tube?" she asked, clearly taken aback. "As in, the Muggle Underground?"

"Occasionally," he said, watching her fold up the Subway map.

"Right, okay," Albus interjected sarcastically, stamping his feet in the cold, "Scorpius likes the anonymity of being around Muggles, so does Rose, _blimey_ , you both have _so_ much in common, now can we please get into the warmth?" He gestured to the stairs leading down to the trains.

"Sure," Rose said, her cheeks colouring slightly at her cousin's comment. She made her way down to the station after one last embarrassed glance back at Scorpius. He followed, wondering how Al had realised the true reason he preferred travelling on the Muggle Underground when he'd never told anybody.

After a brief faff with American muggle currency (" _The bills are all the same colour!"_ ) they finally all clutched their little yellow tickets, swiping them to get through the rather intimidating metal barrier.

"I never get how these muggle card things work," Al whispered to him once they were through, examining the rather flimsy ticket. "How do they know how much money is on them?"

"Dunno," Scorpius said, distracted by the train that was pulling up into the station.

"This is the one," Eloise said, pointing at the carriage, which was displaying a sign that had a big "Q" emblazoned on the side.

"Brilliant," Rose blinked, climbing onboard. "Well, that was easy."

The compartment was nearly empty, being past the evening rush hour, and Scorpius noticed that most of the people onboard had no interest in the four of them at all, either with headphones in their ears, tapping their feet to some invisible music, or with their noses in various books. Many of them were touching the screens of their small sleek bits of metal he knew were a type of portable muggle telephones. He leaned over to get a closer look at one, but was given a rather nasty side-eye by the Muggle woman holding it.

"We need to get to 57th" Rose said, studying her map again from where she'd sat on one of the ugly, hard-looking orange chairs. Scorpius checked the map on the wall of the compartment behind him - they had six stops to go.

He was so engrossed in his study of the rather complicated Subway map that he didn't notice the carriage slowly emptying, until they were the last ones in it. As they pulled out of the 49th Street station, the fluorescent lights above their heads flickered, making a sort of high humming sound that he found rather disconcerting.

Before he could comment on it, however, the lights flickered out, sending the carriage into complete darkness. Rose let out a little scream, to his left.

"Don't panic," Eloise's voice came from across the car. "I'm sure it's just a glitch in the system, nothing to worry about."

" _Lumos,"_ Al's face came into focus, his wand held alight in front of him.

"Put that out, Albus," Rose scolded him, "If any Muggles see you -"

But the end of her threat was never voiced, as the compartment door opened on the far end of the carriage, the squeak of the hinges and the sound of metal wheels on the tracks drowning out the end of her statement. A cold fear gripped his heart like a vice as Scorpius heard footsteps entering the car.

Albus still hadn't extinguished his wand, but rather thrust it upwards to catch the face of the intruder. However, a dark hood covered the face of the person opposite them - what was clear to see, however, was the wand pointed in their direction.

"Oh sure, as if this isn't creepy enough, add a _hood_ " Scorpius heard Albus whine softly.

" _Confringo!"_ The figure shouted, as Rose cried " _Expelliarmus!"_ Their attacker dodged her curse easily, but the force of it made their own spell misfire, zinging past Scorpius's right ear.

His wand was out in an instant. " _Stupefy!"_ He cried, watching Rose dart out of the way of a green jet of light out of the corner of his eye.

Eloise darted out nibly from behind them, twisting her wand in an elegant fashion. " _Deprimo!"_ she shouted, blasting a hole in the floor of the carriage where the hooded figure was advancing towards them. They dodged, only barely, and Scorpius balked to see the racing track through the gap in the compartment floor. He barely had time to dwell on this, however, as the next bolt of light came their way and hit Albus in the leg, causing him to double up in pain.

"Al!" Rose called, coming to her cousin's side as blood began to seep through his jeans. " _Tergeo,"_ Scorpius could hear her mutter from behind him.

Scorpius sent a stinging hex towards the cloaked body, silently cheering when it hit the person's shoulder. They wheeled around to face him, bringing their wand down in an arcing motion, like a half moon. " _Nox Aeterna,"_ they whispered, the unfamiliar words chilling him to the bone. He only just leapt out of the way of the spell, banging his shin on one of the compartment seats as he did so.

Their attacker was a skilled duellist, firing off spells and dodging as many as they sent their way. Eloise, who was particularly good at defensive shield charms, finally cast one so large that their entire group could crouch behind it, rather than dodging the hexes that came their way. The coach rattled along the tracks, and Scorpius could see the light from the end of the tunnel, signalling that they were pulling into the next station.

The hooded figure had noticed, too, and taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Albus leapt onto the cloaked body in an instant, physically knocking them to the ground, his previous injury apparently forgotten.

"Got you," he growled, yanking the hood back.

A woman smiled up at them, spitting out blood from where Al had collided with a shoulder to her face. He looked taken aback at the face of their attacker, but held her firm on the ground as they pulled into the station.

"Who are you?" Al demanded.

The woman laughed, a disconcerting sound that sent tingles up Scorpius' spine.

"You'll know soon enough," she said in a clear, strong voice with an American accent. And before any of them could stop her, she whispered " _Avada Kedavra."_

"No!" Scorpius yelled, rushing forwards to his best mate. But it wasn't Al slumped over when the bright green light had faded. It was the woman, her wand still held up to her face with those cold, unseeing eyes.

Albus leapt off of her as if burned.

"Oh my Godric," he said, his voice shaking.

"Come on, Albus," Eloise said, grabbing his arm. "We need to get out of here."

With one last look at the woman's limp body on the floor of the carriage, they turned and fled.

* * *

 **A/N: I promised there would be another update soon! Ahh I'm so excited for all the bits yet to come, and cannot wait to share with you all. Thanks a million for all of the lovely comments, your kind words make the writing all the easier :) More to come shortly!**


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